The Lord is a God of tenderness and compassion.
Slow to anger rich in kindness and faithfulness.
Moses was on his Sinai passion.
And we too are on our own journey through life’s wilderness.

We know that history’s greatest charlatans have promised to remove mortality’s stain.
Sometimes my hope fails, is immortality after death but a dream.
Are we too carrying stones of doubt up our own mist enshrouded mountain.
Do we search there in vain to pierce a silent unforgiving cloud ready to blaspheme.

But as I listen to the soothing mass.
The gentle cadence of Gloria, credo and paternoster.
Slowly faith grows with acceptance from a half empty to half full glass.
And from this holy water doubts begin to scatter.

But every day is a new long climb up that stony mountain.
And thus I fear I never will be certain.