Grain’s sown in soil to make us bread;
Man shall not live by bread alone.
The kingdoms of the earth are dust;
The Son of Heaven left His throne.
Our bones are brittle and will break;
All of your bones will stay in place.
The earth has cliffs to claim our lives.
My heart says of You, Seek His face!
The desert eats for forty days;
Yet He will guard You with His wings.
O God, remember: we are dust;
Beneath Your wings, we sing.
The Consolations of Writing 