When you're sitting on the ground and ashes are falling round,
You look up, blinking against the light, and wonder at the sound
For in the soft and crumbly snowing grey is the sound of music
And your choice is to take it in, or wrap up and refuse it...
It's hard to explain, in the emptiness of life's dreams,
Sitting, staring at the walls, so stark and bare and clean;
The colour's gone and they are empty; torn shreds hanging on the nails...
You wonder how the smile begins and sit to write the tale...
For it's a broken life, full of so many smashed up things,
A father, brother, lover gone; how can you find the hope to sing?
The question is not why, you see, but how these things can be.
I know the why - that's because of God, Who always has been holding me.
Surrounded by the prayers of many, lifted on the wings of faith,
I raise my voice in song and find the strength to smile again.
The miracle of the overcomer is somehow in my soul,
And deep within my heart I know that God will someday make me whole.
For it's a broken life, full of so many smashed up things.
But each day there's God, Who always a new hope can bring.
It's where your eyes are fixed, what your ears hear that count...
Can your eyes see only ashes, or can you hear the song that calls the dance?
