The Way

When I lose sight of the Way

When I wander away

Call me to return and pray

 

You are good, good, good

 

June, warm with a cool breeze, high noon

Alone, thousands of miles from home

A road-less-traveled showing;

Wheat growing, Spirit flowing

Slow-walking, no talking,

Bending and ascending to Francis

 

When I lose sight of the Way

When I wander away

Remind me of Assisi and

Life is not about me

 

You are good, good, good