From deep within, he called me by name Heaven,

Standing up as a herald, to spread the burning light.

In the divine shadow, my voice became a sword,

And in silence I was a sharp arrow, ready to fly.

“In vain I struggled,” I sometimes sighed,

Crushed by the weight of being, by the abyss of giving.

But in the darkness he rang a voice: “You are my honor,

My glory will shine in you, my power will have a home.”

“Is the task of lifting up the fallen too small?”

No, replied the Redeemer, the Saint of the stars:

“A light to the nations, a hope that touches the heavens,

A path for those seeking freedom, for the soul that wanders.”

To the prisoners I command: “Free yourselves from the chains!”

To the desperate: “Come to the light, I will show you the way!”

Raise your eyes to the sky, my land, sing and dance!

Even the mountains rejoice at the comfort that will descend.

For every wasteland, for every broken heart,

I promise rebirth, a home, a new beginning.

To the people I raise my hand, to the nations I raise the flag,

And the lost children will return, embraced, brought back into harmony.

On the day of Pentecost, the Spirit descends,

Filling the soul with fire and the earth with promises.

Rulers and queens will bow at my feet,

They will serve with devotion, their faces in the dust.

Thus it has been written for centuries, thus it will always be:

They will recognize the light from above in me and will never be disappointed.

With the Spirit leading, every step is a renewal,

A sign of divine power, an eternal radiance in the firmament.

(see Isaiah 49:1-7)