Open my ears to the Spirit song, rafting through the land,
With words of a simple making, whose meaning, hearts commend.
Its tune, a lively tonic, the broken, a healing hand,
The weary shall find solace, and the childlike, understand.
Just a quiet foreshadowing, a whisper through the trees,
The past, its days reflecting, yet what glories beckon thee.
For sure, His hand was guiding, while dark the hour may be,
O Await the dawn, its breaking, there, Love, victorious, free.
Tether me, O Lord, to Love divine,
By cords of grace, spun as silk so fine.
With ancient lights, hung in heavens, shine,
Ever bound to You, Your will, as mine.
Deft, with measured movement, the crafting by His hand,
From nought, the form emerges, each a plan so grand.
Polishing and filing, rough edges, gently sand,
Then a kiss, life breathing, with flowers, grace the land.
“Is He not the carpenter’s son?”
~ Matthew 13:55
There he grew before us, a child before our eyes,
Once a tiny sapling, now his, the roving skies.
Whither goes his journey, what promise holds his prize,
Now his wings doth take him, sweet angel in disguise.
Tide me with your blessings, of the ordinary kind,
To know the sun and seasons, glimpses of you, I find.
Promptings of the spirit, let the earthly, leave behind,
Then home among the flowers, to bed, at last, recline.
Round His table gather, find grace of every kind,
Food to fill the hungry, sight to the lonesome blind.
Promise ever keeping, no child be left behind,
At this feast partaking, by love, shall all man bind.