Saint Augustine

better days

SAINT AUGUSTINE

He was a sinner who became a priest
And from his hunger made a feast
The eternal quest, the old complaint
The humbled soul become a saint
From Africa to an old Greek cell
Where Phoenix and Ulysses fell
He said unto the victor's guns
You must spare the vanquished ones
His words so old and clean
Saint Augustine

He bade them spare the temple's grace
Drag no man from his worship place
Are we to punish each offense
And leave no fate to providence
Then ridiculed as merciful
He whispered yet of miracle
Said mercy brings no blasphemy
But cruel acts ever cleave to thee
His words so old and clean
Saint Augustine

We owe it to the God we're with
To drive no man outside his faith
So the ones we deem as wicked see
Our purpose is not cruelty
Some live in fear of every breath
While others die embracing death
The flesh of a saint what's it worth
To those who make graves of the earth
His love so old and clean
Saint Augustine

It is death that builds the road
To the human heart of God
For those who have no tomb exalt
The sky entire becomes their vault
To a father's cloth the son will cling
The daughter weep and rub his ring
Where now is consolation found
Spare a man his holy ground
The prayer so old and clean
Saint Augustine

He was a sinner who became a priest
And from his hunger made a feast
The eternal quest, the old complaint
The humbled soul become a saint
From Africa to an old Greek cell
Where Phoenix and Ulysses fell
He said unto the victor's guns
You must spare the vanquished ones
His words so old and clean
Saint Augustine

DL