( 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