How Many Faces

By how many faces are you to be known
And which is broadcast now?
When suffering strikes, is it fair to presume
You’ve donned the furrowed brow?

When darkness envelopes our city, have you
Recoiled from us again?
And if you’re immutable, dare we conclude
It’s always this way been.

O Lord, make your face shine upon us that we’d
In vain nor error pine,
Or else the perception I’ve drawn of your frame
Will swiftly become mine.

Now surely depiction’s a condescension
Your countenance forbids—
The blaze that I’ve witnessed yet brands an imprint
Inside my weary lids

And this much is certain, your face at least bears
The grit of Calvary
And color from every petal that nods
Somewhere upon a breeze.