a song of mourning, and rejoicing
Sung/Spoken:
The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
He leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul:
::::::::::::::::::: Quiet::::::::::::::::::::::::, then
'This is my body, which is broken for you. Do this, in remembrance of me"
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
The sun shines on David
a mighty man of battle
a lover of peace who found no rest
except in the still coolness of you
You see,
In the quiet fields of a warrior's heart,
there are twenty three stories
Some of the stories have legs
that get up an walk to places that he has been
and can not go back to
And some of them stories have hands
that carry wounds pain and shame
this one has a name
and it is called
He restores my soul
This man, your servant,
who has slain the insurmountable
dismantled towering generals
has wept unmanly tears,
A small crushed petal of a smaller hand
indistinguishable
boy from man
he has been walking through the valley of the shadow of his past
looking for the river Jordan
where he heard that healing could come up spring;
Looking for a right of way in the middle of the fair view
He is walking through past valiant victory
bereft from the flesh that tried so hard to push and crush
the flesh that was Word, and such
from the hole in his heart where he lays
his heart at your foot
swaddled in white linen
that maintains military silence even in the
rain of a great man's bitter tears
a great man of rank, in a small position;
this servant, this man with so much heart
he is magnificently
flawed
this man
breath of your breath,
yet so flesh of our flesh
looking for that ocean of quiet that will fill
the cup of wanton rest
lamenting the poor race he has run
knees bent, face bruised and bloody,
dirt caked with latent faith
the small stifled cry
please, don't take my son
Restoration
that still small voice that was louder than
the resounding footsteps of giants long fallen
that cried out to him in the wilderness
defeated the armies of men and hid him from Saul
and the totality of enemies who saw him crowned king of them all
hope is the patient,
with a poor prognosis
getting fainter and fainter despite constant care
the same sinful bed he undressed her in
is the one in which he now lies, but can find no rest
the same battles he has fought with men who would give their life
and follow him anywhere
have led him to wars without cease
and quiet without peace
as
no peace
as Uriah's loyalty cries red
against an
unborn hope
all the times that he reprimanded his men,
when he broke rank, out of a crowd of them
Coveting and campaigning for a nagging desire for more
Scripture: Why have you despised the word of the LORD, to do what is evil in his sight?
You have smitten Uriah the Hittite with the sword, and have taken his wife to be your wife."
Can a man love with a broken heart
without his love breaking in two
but just when it was darkest,
he felt the warmth of you
a warm breeze on a hellish night,
and he remembers what it is to be a man
in Your sight
amazing
You pick up the broken pieces of a man who has fallen
and he stands
you nurse his wounded soul, and tend to his
battered hope
you take the tears that have watered
his anguish and sprinkle them in a pasture
called repentance
you remind him that though he walks,
though he walks, though he walks
and he falters,
he shall not fall
you tenderly massage his
bowed head with
the scent of possibility
that even when a story ends
it begins
an mends
and sends
restoration
Scripture
Spoken/Sung
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,I will fear no evil:For thou art with me;Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; Thou annointest my head with oil;My cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,and I will dwell in the House of the Lord forever.
