Up those stone steps I climb  Hail this joyful day's return  Into its great shadowed vault I go  Hail the Pentecostal morn    The reading is from Luke 24  Where Christ returns to his loved ones  I look at the stone apostles  Think that it's alright for some    And I wish that I was made of stone  So that I would not have to see  A beauty impossible to define  A beauty impossible to believe    A beauty impossible to endure  The blood imparted in little sips  The smell of you still on my hands  As I bring the cup up to my lips    No God up in the sky  No devil beneath the sea  Could do the job that you did, baby  Of bringing me to my knees    Outside I sit on the stone steps  With nothing much to do  Forlorn and exhausted, baby  By the absence of you