La femme de ma vie

All those years I knew before,

The years I looked for You, O Lord,

They fell away to nothing when I knew You;
You sent her on a paper plate,

Unadorned, my matron saint,

She took me by the hand and led me to You;

The seventh deadly sin of Pride,

She looks beyond, to me, inside;

At dawn, the child was not a stranger to You;
And, yes, I left the child behind,

But always kept the place in mind,

And it was she that helped me bring him to You;

I glimpsed the end, or thought I did,

With only me to make the bid,

With only me to tell You that I'd seen You;

But now she tucks me in at night,

She shows me where to find the light,

And everything she does is to reveal You