We listen, spellbound, to the stories
told on hilltop and sandy shore, and we are hooked.
We watch, aghast, as softly
the agony ends, and the final breath escapes.
We grieve and we despair.
We wake early and we wonder
if maybe, just maybe,
new hope may come with the dawn.
God of birth and growth, decline and death,
God of whatever came before
and whatever may come after
the brief, troubled lives that we know,
we commit to your care and keeping
our lives and our loved ones…
our world and our worries on its behalf…
We long for you to come and save us.
May we be ready when you do.