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 |  |
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