In the quiet glow of God's embrace,
A cross stands tall, a sacred trace,
Bathed in hues of amber light,
As day surrenders to the night.

The sky is painted, gold and red,
Where shadows stretch, the world is led,
Yet in this still, the cross remains,
A symbol through our deepest pains.

The sun descends, but hope ascends,
A promise that the light defends,
In every line, in every sigh,
Where our hope lies, we'll never die.