, , , , , , , , , ,




Temple of His presence

Temple of our bodies;

The temple in ruins

Not one stone left on another as spoken

Tears run down the faces of old men

They weep as little children at the sight,

Hearts broken

Spirits crushed

No hope can be sensed, imagined.

Cries and deep moans rise for a nation

A people, tribes once favored, a family

Now cast aside,

Left in the ditches of an abandoned dirt road,

It trails off into the desert sunset,

Into the middle of nowhere.

But, the God of Justice looks back once more

His righteous passions kindled

Humbles Himself to look again upon the Earth

Certainly fruit will be harvested

Once more men and women will lift holy hands

Mouths will sing praises along with skills of musicians,

All creation raised up

Eyes given to see, ears given to hear

A Spirit given to know,

As if from the dead;

They will call upon the Name together

More than a love song by Solomon.

Love builds up

The God who is love builds us up ever more

A life on knees in repentance as a prayerful aroma

Broken and humble hearts beneath Heaven as a soaring fragrance

Will be lifted up very high,

Into the Heavens seated near the Holy Throne,

Splendor and Majesty beyond mere words,

To look into the face of Pure Light

The Holy Face of Glory

The God of Love, our Creator

The face of our God, our Lord of Love.