( Bruce Coburn )      Look at them working in the hot sun   The pilloried saints and the fallen ones   Working and waiting for the night to come   And waiting for a miracle   Somewhere out there is a place that's cool   Where peace and balance are the rule   Working toward a future like some kind of mystic jewel   And waiting for a miracle   You rub your palm   On the grimy pane   In the hope that you can see   You stand up proud   You pretend you're strong   In the hope that you can be   Like the ones who've cried   Like the ones who've died   Trying to set the angel in us free   While they're waiting for a miracle   Struggle for a dollar, scuffle for a dime   Step out from the past and try to hold the line   So how come history takes such a long, long time   When you're waiting for a miracle   You rub your palm   On the grimy pane   In the hope that you can see   You stand up proud   You pretend you're strong   In the hope that you can be   Like the ones who've cried   Like the ones who've died   Trying to set the angel in us free