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