You, Dancing Rock, on which we stand,
unchanging, ever new,
in all our trembling unafraid,
as changing seasons bloom and fade
we enter clouds inside to ask of You
the gift of trust half-hidden in Your hand.

You dance along the pathway of a child,
our single Source of song,
as holy as alone the Whole can be.
And seeking wholeness, gingerly,
we enter the unknown and fall headlong
as injured we are healed. Ah, Grace is wild.

You, Dancing Rock, on which we fall,
and crushed are taught to stand,
in all our changing, constantly
relating, bonding, caring, free,
Your invitation is an open hand
and powder-fine the whisper of your call.