Her leaves are fallen,
The flowers faded;
The well of her youth,
Has been invaded.
The branches bent,
the will unbroken;
The coming of winter,
On the wind is spoken.
Pass us by like a Summer's storm,
That quickly chills our bones;
Steal not the comfort of our warmth,
take not the lyrics to our songs.
Deep within her roots,
Waiting for the spring;
Sing now the glory,
Of the coming King.
Bend but do not break,
Aid comes to the weak;
Look past the Winter,
to the Spring we all seek.
Pass sweet into the Summer's warmth,
That quickly heats our old bones;
Sheltered in comfort from the storm,
sing now the lyrics to your songs.
The flowers faded;
The well of her youth,
Has been invaded.
The branches bent,
the will unbroken;
The coming of winter,
On the wind is spoken.
Pass us by like a Summer's storm,
That quickly chills our bones;
Steal not the comfort of our warmth,
take not the lyrics to our songs.
Deep within her roots,
Waiting for the spring;
Sing now the glory,
Of the coming King.
Bend but do not break,
Aid comes to the weak;
Look past the Winter,
to the Spring we all seek.
Pass sweet into the Summer's warmth,
That quickly heats our old bones;
Sheltered in comfort from the storm,
sing now the lyrics to your songs.
