Each fleeting year, a dollar spent
Until there's nothing left to give and nothing left
The scroll of time, a scene unwinds
Revealing healing needed for all of mankind
A child born, a life will grow
Aside from mother's joyful hope, in truth we know
Yet pain to see the tragedy
The more we live, the more we die increasingly
A prophet came, made water wine
With no honor from His own, save only signs
A land of reeds, among the weak
A second sign had come for fragile souls who seek
A noble man in Cana found
Despite his child's buoyant youth, to death was bound
Of life he heard, so undeterred
In desperation came and sought His healing word
Let the signs and wonders meet their own demise
Sir, come down before my little child dies
All the moribund are healed by life You give
Just speak a word and I believe my son will live
Within the mind, emotion, will
There is a dire need to heal which life can fill
Our spirit, soul, and body-whole
When filled with life, will swallow up all death's control
A tender scar, a contrite heart
Wherever life would enter in, it heals that part
We muse upon the Healer's psalm
Conveying words of life that hold the healing balm
Let the signs and wonders meet their own demise
Sir, come down before my little child dies
All the moribund are healed by life You give
Just speak a word and I believe my son will live
Let the signs and wonders meet their own demise
Sir, come down before my little child dies
All the moribund are healed by life You give
Just speak a word and I believe my son will live