Astounding clockwork from such cobbled cogs,
A pinky lick with blue on sharpened teeth,
As such we uniform our grand machine,
As such we preach a unity despite,
And each turns eyes above to pray,
For grace and glory that exceeds our toil.

Praise the Lord who meets us in the little gathering,
That quiet humble place that drips with earnestness,
The stumbled talk wrapped up in eager adoration,
He upholds the prayer of righteous men as mighty,
He extended the reach of weak and meager hands.

Close come,
The day is drawn,
I'm rushed into a zipped up bed,
I hear incessant chatter lining the air,
Beneath, the rain patters on the cloth,
My head rested.