Infinite
- Blown by the gale of remorse,
Rocked by the loud waves of grief,
We scan the heavens for relief,
And with new hope set a final homeward course. - Cleansed in the soul of the fire,
Far past the deserts of sin,
The Spirit stirs us within
To sound the fanfare of our innermost desire. - Borne on the wings of The Dove,
High over mountains of grief,
In air that glistens with belief
In the unending life of perfect love.