In the cold light of the sun, where I cannot hide,
But I feel no need to run, I have dropped my pride.
At the edge of the day, I fall and pray.
By the stillness of the stream, the reflection is clear.
I can see beneath the dream, as in a mirror.
At the edge of the falls, a clear voice calls.
Through endless days,
Through endless years,
Through endless ways,
Through endless fears...
On the edge of time,
On the edge of space,
On the edge of a rhyme,
On the edge of grace...
On an altar on a hill, there lies the child.
He is bound and lying still, yet undefiled.
At the edge of the knife, he breathes new life.
'Neath the staring of the stars, a baby cries,
And accepts these gifts of ours, opens our eyes.
At the edge of the night, we find the light.