The steeple and the tree compete for the light.
Both lifting and turning by an unseen hand.
A communion of souls in the wilderness night.
We pray for redemption to make our lives right,
Kneeling before the altar by HIS command.
The steeple and the tree compete for the light.
Wise men in the pulpit preach second sight.
Right angles of the cross so hard to withstand.
A communion of souls in the wilderness night.
Leaves of the faithful turn, no longer bright.
Crimson and gold in the shadows once grand.
The steeple and the tree compete for the light.
As for me, random curves of a tree excite.
Nature without crosses, redemption at hand.
A communion of souls in the wilderness night.
Tiny angels in the branches sing songs of delight,
Under an altar of stars so carefully planned.
The steeple and the tree compete for the light.
A communion of souls in the wilderness night.