The midnight rain deforms all footprints
Even in the garden of Gethsemane —
How can we follow what no one can see?
The weight of Him bends not even the violets
What trail or trace in the souls of us,
Where the unmagnetic compass
What clue in the wind, what feeble scent?
Follow Him deeper, He is within,
Follow the dark to find the light
Though rain may fall before midnight
