You will know him by his eyes,
They are like the blue light of God.
(I met him at the library,
We walk by faith and not by words,
So I met him at the library.)
He called out when I said good morning,
God made me an angel before,
It was dark and misty on the beaches of Chile,
I wasn’t sure what he called me for.
She was kind like Stephen,
His eyes are like the waves,
Angelica es su hija también,
Por eso él vencío la grave.
We talked about two Sauls,
One from today’s sermon, one like my soul,
And the antics of the boy I love,
When he’s escaped parole.
He said he’d come to see me at 9:30 or eleven o clock,
I reminded him of the spirit that calls us there,
He asked if the John I know would mind a runner up,
I said that the one I love has grasshoppers to dare.
I will be like him when he won’t;
I will walk by faith,
There is a lot there riding on a name,
Look upon it in his face.
I said some things I “shouldn’t have” because he saw the truth,
We talked about mission work, our daily lives,
And a church here or there for proof.
The people of this city are no different than he,
We all broken bitter and backwards,
The dark will stay if we let it be.
I write this from Gethesemane because I truly know,
I met him at the library,
He knew, thus it was so.