The Bridge to What Was Before

When the dread shadow of a broken trust

Falls upon a weary kin,

And the long winter of despair

Creeps past the gate, to enter in.

A just envoy of righteous name,

Goes forth to stand where hope has fled,

To chart the ruin and the bitter blame,

And raise the living from the dead.

She speaks the truth to armored halls,

And holds the rightful claim on high,

A caring purpose, heeding grace's call,

Beneath a storm-swept, troubled sky.

Thus, like that Saint of Myra, bold,

Who gave in secret, without pride,

She builds a bridge to what was before,

And walks with truth by client's side.

Her work a grace, a gift for all,

To bring the broken home to peace,

And answer justice's solemn call,

Until the weary burdens cease.