He bends to bring his kingdom here He bends to come near To abide with us
We’re on the road with Christ | Dust on our feet | Nothing to eat | Nowhere to lay our heads, no sleep. Coded pattern of speech that the goats can’t breach | Told them slatterns this king brings hope to thee | Us folks will shatter the dreams of these “popes” to be. They’re puppets on a string with no authority. . .
Thorns in my flesh Pain in my steps Needles in my heart Lament on my breath Agony in my gut Drags me into a rut Mercy of the Lord don’t seem to be enough. . .
Do not forsake This heart of stone When I close off To be alone
I’m just recollectin’ about life before I stepped in line with the Christ. Lime is the light we pursued through the night trying to change up life. Grasping at straws because our goals ain’t right. . .
"The Hellenistic culture that breeds this Humanistic worldview is in my sights when I give these words life. So, I had to leave behind my peregrination to the illuminated darkness of the blind secular nation."
I want to slow down and journey with You to the cross before tasting the thrill of Your resurrection.But how does my reality allow me to do such a thing? Running, running -tired -out of time.
Walk with me down pitted road of hard-packed red earth spread stubbornly fertile under glaring skies: My mother, Her name is “Home.”
Who knew It would ever come to this? Ha, I tried to run from this. . .
Written by R.A. Loyd Perhaps madmen belong in caves wherein the Lord receives them tenderly with mercies unknown to a shaking, howling, blasphemous generation. A mist on the concrete is three oceans to the hermit; the branch of oak is a sight of two colors; to the ascetic it is ninety proverbs. Every game and trial is lowercase theology to the itinerant monk, whereupon the body is a constant altar, a legged Israel, a country of praise.