I. And so, the domes and waters in their place, He made His image-bearers shine His face. He looked on them and called them very good Who only trusted what they understood. II. The domes thrown into disarray to flood The earth and turn the man of dust to mud. Yet one remains to carry on the seed; An olive branch; a bow turned on its head. III. And in the thicket stands a captured ram, Where God Himself, he sees, supplied the lamb. And so the sovereign promise lingers on For he has not withheld his only son. IV. Yet, though with outstretched arm and mighty hand He turns the writhing sea into dry land, Still they long for Egypt’s comfort food And turn to dust what once was very good. V. So over desert sands this call resounds: To seek the Lord yet while he may be found. A cry: listen, listen, eat what is good And let your soul delight in His pure food. VI. And at the portal’s entrance here she stands Drawing in the foolish with her hands, Calling simple ones to come and live And eat from hands which long always to give. VII. Though stony hearts stand back and leave the feast, His breath still calls as far as west from east And beckons in His once-good people who Can only offer Him old hearts for new. VIII. Breathing over valleys of dead bones, He takes these skeleton remains and turns The dead into an army marching wide To bring back to Him those now dead and dried. IX. And so in broken waiting sing aloud For He who gathers waters in the clouds Gathers in the outcast and the lame And fashions praises out of our dead shame.