We fight for hope, and as life we cope 

With fire we lead, even as our hearts bleed 

And why not, oh why not, a contrite heart 

We are a living sacrifice, at the throne of Christ 

With bloodshot eyes, and voices that rejoice 

His mercies we see, big or small they may be 

We are lonely, and lively, yet made wonderfully 

In His image we were made, the lowly became great 

Sometimes heart-broken, other times awoken 

A bit lazy and sluggards, or emotinally retards 

We bleed on a canvas, or spill tears on drums 

Weave tunes on a string, or give words some wings 

We speak, draw, dance, sing, or move, strut ring-a-ling 

We sow seeds of joy, for we are the King’s envoy 

We choose the hard, even when our hearts are scarred 

For souls must be saved, and the mission be braved

We show up, we run, we sprint, we glow, shine and glint 

We are the creation and the art, and our creator’s very start 

We can change and transform, every shape, word or form

We are both sad and beaming, we are the art redeeming