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God's Prisoners

       Whispy white angelic images float against the blue
Little winged friends chatter as they glean
Gentle rolling hills, sturdy oaks adorning
This is my Father's world
Even from within razor wire and gun towers
His life teems among us
Gentle, loving broken sons
Searching for love and truth
Tender hearts in swarthy houses
These are my friends and fellow soldiers
Following the way
Searching after the Master's footsteps
Following across the Jordan
He met us there today
A three strand cord is not easily broken
The rent of fellowship met
We spoke of fondness
The Father, the Son and the brothers
I believe I will be one with the Father
I believe the Son has set me free
I believe in unity with my brothers
I believe whom the Son sets free is free indeed
This is my story, this is my song
Blue-shirted men of God, sons of the King
One tall and strong, one fearsome, one meek
Each special, each gifted, each belonging
Living stones in the Father's house
A Holy City under construction
A broken piece of Zion in repair

-Stephen Pursell, 11/17/02