Ph: Faith: A Poem For Helen Poem by Brian Johnston

I hate it that the morning sun
For you brings thoughts of future pain,
That joyful days something you feel
Will never ever come again,

I hate it that friends outstretched arms
Bring only thoughts they too will die,
That day's promise is only loss
Life's colors seem a fragile dye.

I hate it that though joy may come
A lobster sandwich that tastes good
Depression's grip still holds your heart
Surrounding you like coffin's wood.

I hate it though your trembling frame
I gently hold in fond embrace,
Your spirit's looking for a door,
And only feels your life's disgrace.

Oh day of possibility
We thank you that we play a part
In bringing heaven back to earth
God's servant still the human heart.

Let even Death too find release
From dark dreams of irreverence,
Angelic music filled with peace
Announce now Christ's deliverance!