The sun comes up, and we’ll be there,
chasing our dreams, before they run,
for time has stopped, we’ll see the end,
before it comes, before it comes
And now, we’ve turned away,
to face His truth, in our own way,
turn around, yes turn around,
go the other way, slowly turn.
To open arms, the lamb lies down,
facing up, to father’s joy
taken here, by the hand
walk slowly child, your time is come.
Filling in some time this lovely lyrical Sunday morning with the Gospel Generator Project. Not sure where this inspiration came from, maybe the harmonies in my head needed some words. Hah! Like a dream while I’m awake I imagine something like a 1930’s revival tent in the dusty summer sun filled with Sunday best and suspenders and hats – and white gloves and pecan pie. Yes, pecan pie, and the smell of perfume. Maybe it’s a small church whitewashed against the sky, standing alone out of town where the buggy horses line up staring sideways at each other, tails swishing the air – children spinning dizzily outside while the Pastor beams in the doorway.