In the silent halls of ancient stone,
Where echoes of prayers softly roam,
The candles flicker, shadows weave,
A tapestry of belief, we perceive.

Through stained glass, the morning light,
Paints a mosaic of colors bright,
Each hue a promise, each ray a guide,
Leading hearts where hope resides.

Beneath the arch of heaven’s dome,
The faithful gather, feeling at home,
In whispered hymns, their spirits rise,
Seeking solace beyond the skies.

As time flows through the sacred sands,
The unseen hands of destiny plan,
A journey of faith, forever drawn,
In the embrace of dusk and dawn.