In lofty heights, I stand so tall, A watchful needle, I call. With silent song, I'm close to skies, Guiding prayers through my eyes.

I have a face and two hands, but no arms or legs. I help you every day, but I never move on my own. What am I?

I have no mouth, yet I carry voices far. I have no legs, yet I travel near and afar. I can bind things tight or bring them light, Invisible paths by day and glowing by night. What am I?

and the pay for the ancient soldier. I am a white stone that vanishes in a drink, yet I make the ocean heavy. I preserve the dead but bite the living. What am I?

No first: a darkness the whole word could rinse. Pour in ‘t’ secondly: a bad smell forcing wince. No four to dish in: Deadly seven within. As a hole, drain in home, or sand pulling you in.