To the tune of “Lord, Whose Love In Humble Service“:
Lord, whose love alone avails us when our future is unseen, you are health when sickness quails us, you, who made the leper clean. When our fragile flesh has failed us, when we fall from all we'd been, when the body's ills assail us, Christ incarnate, intervene. Raise us, Shepherd, on your shoulder when we cannot raise ourselves. Wounded, sickened, growing older: guide us as we lose our health. Vales of shadow, darker, colder, grip our heart and take our breath. Shepherd us, our life's beholder, even through the gates of death. Of your mercy, great restorer, give us what we need to live: grace according to your order, peace with all you will to give. Be our prayer with health rewarded or with failing, all is gift. Still will we, your true adorers, ever grateful voices lift.
And a bonus poem, written by my son, Joseph, called “Fire”:
Deep inside the dancing flames There are small things playing small games. If you look closer you'll even see Little versions of you and me. They just do our normal things, Waiting to see what new hours bring. And, if you watch the fire's rays, You'll feel their desire to set things ablaze. Then in a puff of cloudy smoke, You'll realize that you have awoke. Now all is said between me and you, So with that I will bid you adieu.