I think I smell the sunset, think I feel the close of day,
Clean-shaven correspondents are all crowded at the gate,
Smell the oil from their torches, their voices growing more irate,
Shepherd's staves are crooked, leading every crooked way,
All the sheep lock their doors, yeah, they're pulling down their shades,
The faithful looking in their mirrors,
The faithful growing old and grey.

But I look at you - your eyes are clear and bright,
I see your face, it's an amazing sight,
Your glory, Lord, is still a burning light,
The light that all our faithless hands could never dim.

Think I smell the sunset, think I smell the death of day,
People laughing at a funeral, people dancing at a wake,
And all the seasons blend together,
This bird's losing feathers everyday. (every day I see your eyes)

But I look at you - your eyes are clear and bright,
I see your face, it's an amazing sight,
Your glory, Lord, is still a burning light,
The light that all our faithless hands could never dim.

And everybody's tired and scared, and begging unbelief,
But you have yet to break a sweat,
No, you're not afraid, you're not afraid, you're not afraid.

I think I smell the sunset, think I feel the close of day,
Shepherd's staves are crooked, leading every crooked way,
People laughing at a funeral, and people dancing at a wake.

But I look at you - your eyes are clear and bright,
I see your face, it's an amazing sight,
Your glory, Lord, is still a burning light,
The light that all our faithless hands could never dim,
But I look at you - your eyes are clear and bright,
I see your face, it's an amazing sight,
Your glory, Lord, is still a burning light,
The light that all our faithless hands could never dim.

Never dim,
Never dim.