The ember dust that settles on our ever grumbling lives;
It’s pure, it’s fine, it’s sweet and sound, it makes you come alive!
It is upon no plane or hill, but lies within our being;
From He who knows the end from now, the One; the all-seeing!
The ember dust, the one made sound, the firstborn of the dust;
It lived and toiled, went back to dust, bust simply could not rust!
It is within no gold nor dough, but in the human hive;
From when we know we now believe, we make her glow alive!
It is the plane that plains our pains, it knows the squirmy bay!
It stretches up the high and low, the glow kicks out the grey!
From when it glows, it blows and grows, it glows our everyday!