The ashes of priests still red-glow,
From Uzziah’s woe I retreat.
But where can I go? Where to run?
I might as well be on the sun.
To live in Your tent, there with You,
In Your presence tru- ly content.
Past the curtain, through the thick veil,
My heart’s great intend- ed home dwells.
How can I survive holy flame,
Not vaining Your Name, but to thrive
In that Place, the same that can kill?
‘Neath Your wings I hide, drink my fill.