How can they not see your face?
How can they not feel your grace?
Wandering aimlessly how do they get through?
Those poor souls who do not know you.
Have mercy Father show them the way.
Open their hearts Lord this I pray.
How can they say you are not here?
Can’t they touch you and feel you near?
How can they look yet do not see?
When there you are right in front of me.
By Estelle P. Shrum