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