Bing Xin's composition Who is he?

The cream is running out.

There is only a circle of shadows left.

The branch is hurt,

There were only a few groans left,

Blow out those that don't shine,

If it doesn't bloom, break it.

Jesus Christ.

"The injured reed, he didn't break.

He won't blow out the broken lamp. "

Our light-his love,

Never ending, amen.