There are times and times again, When my love seems far away; The hours would stretch, the days turn gray; All the while, I know not how, In my darkest hour, He prays In the saints, oh, for my sake. By a touch of His dear love, By the sound of His sweet voice, Whispers from above, Spoken through men of clay. And this world just fades away. (Let this world just fade away.) 2 Blinded soul, I cannot see What this world has done to me; My heart grows cold and life would bleed; Then He comes, knocks on my door, Through the saints—and there they stand With the Lord, oh, for my need!