The Window
Among the most beautiful tapestries,
Venerable and holy relics,
And gilded works of supreme faith,
There is a window of unmatched beauty.
Its shape is complicated, its pattern broken.
Its rough glass casts a multitude of dimmed hues
That showers the darkened Sanctuary
With a rainbow of light from above.
Yet this window is not without flaw.
Amid the muted colors of the stained glass,
It has, at its center, a most grievous chip.
Some might say of the glass
That its formation was all wrong,
That its creator worked on it for far too long.
But this was indeed no flaw,
For it was the intent of the Maker
To allow this "defect" to happen at all.
For at the very spot of the flaw,
Through the darkness of it all,
The Light illuminates the Blessed Altar
And Christ the Lord who has saved us all.
Venerable and holy relics,
And gilded works of supreme faith,
There is a window of unmatched beauty.
Its shape is complicated, its pattern broken.
Its rough glass casts a multitude of dimmed hues
That showers the darkened Sanctuary
With a rainbow of light from above.
Yet this window is not without flaw.
Amid the muted colors of the stained glass,
It has, at its center, a most grievous chip.
Some might say of the glass
That its formation was all wrong,
That its creator worked on it for far too long.
But this was indeed no flaw,
For it was the intent of the Maker
To allow this "defect" to happen at all.
For at the very spot of the flaw,
Through the darkness of it all,
The Light illuminates the Blessed Altar
And Christ the Lord who has saved us all.