Holy Light Through Stained Glass

The morning sun breaks through the old trees. A gentle hand on my weary

heart. Dust dances in the chapel's quiet air. Where old wooden

pews bear their scars. And the light, it falls, it falls so

true. Through the colors, it speaks to you. Holy light,

through the stained glass. Painting grace on the walls that

last in the glow. I find my way lost in the

warmth of another day. Holy light, through

the stained glass. It saves me when my shadow's cast.