'What is Grace? Is It absurd?
Can It be touched, can It be heard?
Where do we find It? Where is It known?
Can it be held? Can It be shown?
Is Grace of God? Or is Grace of man?
Is It transcendent? Can it grip our hand!'
The world is darkened in need of You
Broken and fettered, so we ask 'Who
Are you oh Grace? Speak or we die
Vanquish us now, or comfort our cry!'
Then spoke a man of humanly face,
'I hear you my son, I am true Grace.
I am transcendent yet I am here,
Enclothed in flesh, dying all stare
Suffering for you I carry the cross
I have known anguish; I have known loss'
Could it be Grace, come as a man?
Grace to be held, gripping our hand!
You are true Grace, whom my soul seeks
Grace that can hear, grace that speaks!'