We may be few,
But once there was only Nachiketa.
We may be blind,
No matter how close we are to Thee.
We may be sick,
Like rotten shipwrecks lost at sea.
We may be mocked at,
The way Thy Son used to be.
We may be shaky,
Holding candles while walking on dark paths.
But those who are yet to come,
Who will worship the ground Thy Feet have touched,
Will gently smile at our tiny efforts,
Which are building the bridge they will be walking on.
