In an open room a candle quietly burns In the life of one whose heart yearns
To be a light in the world he lives in
To be controlled by love and not by sin
He speaks few words but his life says much
A frightened soul reaches out to touch
A sealed book that cannot be read
Becomes alive to one who is dead
The beauty of roses hide the painful thorn
As flesh like wool from her life is shorn
She appears to be fragile but is very strong
Reassuring the struggling they belong
Elaborately adorned but seldom used
Of being ineffective the bell is accused
As drums and organs and guitars blast
The time of the handbell surely is past
But after the show in the quiet of the night
The bell is used to guide a lost one to light
A candle, a bible, a simple handbell
Each in its own way has a story to tell
.....peace.....
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