I praise every broken heart,
cried out in the night,
all the good in this world
could never mend.
Every lonely childs voice,
softly spoken out,
against all the bad
it could never end.
I praise every lost and empty soul,
suffering deep in sorrow,
every lonesome tired life
searching for a brighter tommorrow.
Every body so filled with pain,
at the hands of another,
every little drop of rain
that falls on earth our mother.
I praise the sun on yonder hill,
causing life's new seasons to awaken,
I praise the power of our freewill
let our joys not be forsaken.


Copyright 2003 Pierre Ortega