At home in so much noise,
The mess of play and laughter's oil,
My people, O, your people!
Such cobbled gift which overfills,
Designs too wonderful,
Make happy saints from every walk.

A witness to a firm farewell,
Are wages of such deep community,
Transplanting of our very hearts,
These are sorrows gladly held,
For they make lovely beds of hope.

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.

Such varied and beloved saints,
Walk with me in haphazard rise,
Pearly bared teeth and joyous bounds,
Upturned lips, wise wrinkled eyes,
That swallow me in faithful love,
That mark a kinship cutting through,
The deepest differences to find,
A wounded king that bridges to,
Such varied and beloved saints.

What wondrous kindling does make,
A contrite heart and budding love,
A muttered and exalted prayer,
On weary and impassioned lips,
With weak men You, Lord, level hills,
With killers You make merry saints,
With paupers You do shepherd kings,
We long to see what You will do with us!

Reuniting with the saints,
Those close to my worn heart,
To praise and sit under the weight,
Of truth and lightly leave unburdened,
With the knowledge of true friends.

Ever in His careful hands we turn,
Where strength meets failing clay,
Slowly every flop He firms,
Restores a charmed asymmetry,
And so redeeming unique saints,
From every walk and tumbled crawl,
All handles, mouths and licks of paint,
He draws out storied gold from dust,
He fashions for Himself an earthly seat,
To pour on out the hope of His great feat.

Because of you I am so rich a man,
The sainthood ever mine a gift to be,
As I am samely sent from Christ to you,
To me your voice and chorus I can't sing,
Your wisdom, smiles and golden hearts I love,
To you my feet, my words, all I don't see,

We walk apart yet to the same true home,
Where all things rightly march else err to death.
The glory of the highest God supreme,
Uniting every fractured good we chased,
First place of Man to which he must return,
Drenched in the blood of God forever free.

The merry death of monotony,
Beside four ordinary walls - the seige,
Of heaven fierce upon the ramparts,
Its truer hidden life blooms fresh again:
A chorus in a thousand accents,
The praise of freemen at their shattered bonds.

What joy this message is to us!
A worthy cause for blood to boil,
To wage war against a mundane wilt,
But strive with all His energies for:
The transcendent, good and real,
Love genuine, patience of the daring kind,
For exploits in the field of generous time,
For closessness that makes wise men blush,
For weakness clothed in strength that draws the mocker's scorn.

A worthy praise drifts ceaseless to the heights,
Good glory to the highest heights!
For He has smote our bonds,
But more, our tongues He loosed,
That we would join the dawn chorus -
Join the whispers of the dusk to praise,
With angels pour out beauty beyond sound.

Returning with joy to these familiar tracks,
The foliage tumbling over citrus graffiti,
The ceaseless scaffolding in a perilous ascent,
To my dear brothers who I know.

Passing on such expertise,
Now present under all your years,
The tools you share and build for us,
The hand-me-downs and hardy tricks,
Condensed turn richly to the few,
Grand kernels of eternal truth.

Gathering the saints our feet in morning dew,
Awash in echoes 'neath grand beams,
Enrapt with faces stained in glassy light,
Now sternly huddled in wide open rooms,

Like incense wafting ceaseless through,
Piercing Heavens to attentive courts,
And ever this will be our praise:
Our hearts poured out and hope hung up on You and always You.

The chorus of a sold out heart,
In multitudes with adoration,
Joining each to their own part,
In open praise and celebration,

Praise to Him enthroned above,
Praise to Him who swoops below,
Who humbles now Himself to us,
Who takes on every feeble frame,
To hang for us and rise our mighty champion.

You encourage me with veterans,
Of the way. Still sprinting on,
Encrowned in white and humble patience,
Which seems too scarce in me each day,
You call me on with beautiful bells,
Up to the ornate palaces of your love,
To ancient bells and wisdom's tune,
To where the fount of beauty lies in truth,
And there the Faithful call me too.

In service and by service of his people,
I see my soul begin to bloom again,
To meet a need and have it met,
The joy and adoration it beget,
Poured upon a cross which bore my pen-
ulty, transfigured to a bastion and steeple.

A ball of tears,
Come have a hug, now look right here,
You're far too small for all those tears,
Such noisy blasts, I hardly felt my ears,
We'll wait it out together: you'll be alright my dear.

Finding fun in picture books,
To furnish with oration to my little friends,
Seasoned with a question and discussion,
Of the world outside and all its creatures,
Of the world outside its colours and its beaches,
Of the world outside its places and their people.

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.

Little ones I give to you,
More energy than I thought I'd do,
I hope that all your time was fun,
With books and dinosaurs and pens,
With thoughts on faithfulness and friends.

Assembled with the mighty men,
Godly men who love whats good,
Arrayed in youth to grey and in-between,
Cascade of generations of this time,
To break a fast but rather to be met
With friendship and community.

An asymmetric day,
Upon a date symmetric,
5 meters in a length of road,
A quiet place near somewhere loud,

Away! Away to the city on a hill,
Away to find peace and praise,
Amidst a boiling city filled with sound,
To light in the dark place.

Men's breakfast,
Bacon if you please,
Sausage too will be class,
So many conversations with ease,
This strong community to last,
To eternity without cease,
To hold ever tighter to the mast,
Firm wisdom for the seas,
Now this, this is a Men's breakfast.

Full of family time,
I leave these deeper footprints,
These markings in the shores of time,
For glory and for holiness,
My brothers and sisters make playful shadows,
Dancing mad on softest shores,
They shade the track that must be struck,
With deeper footprints,
These markings in the shores of time.

Like handwarmers in the bristly air,
Firm iron to the sweeping blade,
A candle in the deepened night,
Full laughter in the deafening rain,
Is a good family - a foretaste of the kingdom.

I behold His face, my risen God,
This perfect love that wrecks my soul,
I see it in my brothers' eyes,
Glory upon glory upon glory,
It's majesty that fills up overflowing,
Crying out the praises of the lamb.

Prayer together,
A tent descends over our heads,
We're covered now in temple new,
We see you there transfixed-
You're beautiful.
Have mercy on us Lord,
We want to know you,
Closer than we do,
We want to know you.

Travel by the street lamps fierce,
Through their white and saffron glows,
Deep into shadows, concrete folds,
Lightly over leaves and pebbles low,
Away away, I walk away,
Through darkened streets and shadows stray,
To stand in light and sing His praise,
With my people here in foreign lands.

Gracious gift of brothers,
Given to walk beside,
This modern life and darkened day,
To learn to pray,
To imitate as they
do unto Christ and lean on too.

Encouraged by the tested saints,
I hear their prayers,
I hear their faith,
Among your prized bride they sit,
You love their self offerings,
You smile upon their celebrations.

Firecrackers surround me,
Bursting in huddles of prayer to the side,
Smoldering with steady heat in friendships scattered across the room,
I see the Lord is at work,
His flame erupts in the midst of an embrace,
And His bride is edified.

Laying hands,
And I open up my soul to song,
I praise you as I've known for long:
You've gifted me fellowship in my home,
Faithful friends - brethren of my bone,
And you've made a family line your own,
From broken families new life sown.

Hot day,
I'm a puddle on the floor,
Melted from a walk by burning tarmac,
The sun straight vertical overhead,
Leaving shadows shrivelled under,
And I set out for more,
Getting back to the body is worth the rays.

Roped in and held with care,
Sharing laughs with your Church in service,
We're here for You,
You are truly our everything,
And we seek to place You more in our sights,
Till earthly things fall dull by the wayside,
And we hear You clearly.

Rightly ordered,
And you snap everything back into place,
Molding and crafting your body,
Giving us a little more space,
And your breath flows in to open lungs.

Muddied shoes,
And mucky adventures clothe the morning,
I'm walking with some mighty men,
That is to say those clothed in righteous robes like mine,
Not of themselves but from our brother,
And in each passing day they grow like him,
So talking is great fun with them,
They like to tell and laugh and listen.

The next generation,
Tumbles with joy,
Round about,
Here and there,
Into footballs and lessons,
Into paint pots and pencils,
Into the arms of their fathers' Lord,
The faithful one watching over the family,
And placing them on the shoulders of mighty men of God,
So tumble with joy into his goodness,
So tumble with joy into his beautiful precepts,
They will do you good, little ones.

Well established,
Thank you that you cast our roots down deep,
Watered our soil,
And sowed us into the arms of mighty brothers and sisters,
You're so good to us,
And we're rich in friends,
Thank you that you have trained our branches in service of this family,
Praise your holy name,
Father of my many brothers and sisters,
Upholder of these gracious days,
And former of bonds that warm my hearth aflame.

This blessed bread,
That feeds the soul,
And utters glory to the depths of renewed man,
And such weighty blood,
That washes dirtied feet,
And quenches the thirst of walking friends,
Praise God for this holy remembrance and restorer of these tensile bonds,
As surely as he sets the sun, shall he knit us closer and wash us clean.

Fellowship with guys far older than I,
A celebration of two fathers,
Filled with laughter,
Warm food on the table after,
Old tunes blast loudly overhead,
But the conversation hits the mind-master,
The master's mind that is,
The master's mind that guides boys and men to his side,
He's the great one,
And conversation settles on his ways and wisdom.

On the road,
We’re heading to that singing city again,
Looking to honour his name,
To be a people that love to praise,
For me and my house we will follow the Lord.

He’s been gracious to us,
Patient with us,
A blessing to us,
A saviour for us,
And He’s not done loving on us.

It’s a new year for Him to say:
That He still has plans for me,
That He’s here to stay,
And it’s so good to be by His side.

As the orange lights bathe these teal chairs in citrus waves,
A lulling rattle flows unending through the carriage.

We sit face to face,
Speaking of the simple and complex.

Young travelers sojourning in a distant land,
After recharging with our own.

All mysteries are our Lord's,
The hiding place of knowledge and wisdom are bare before him.

Over time we will know,
He will share with us the simple and the complex.

And into eternity we shall laugh and learn.

Your people are a warm lamp for my soul,
Illuminating the hidden,
And bringing out my colours,
They were made for me and I for them,
Vital organs to keep each other toasty,
And wonderfully purposeful and alive.

Knit me in and wrap me up,
Melt my heart for their service,
Grow me in my love for them,
Set my eyes on the goal,
Helping me to run in love and zeal,
To forget myself and remember them.

For I am not greater than my master that I should refrain from washing feet.

Underneath the radiant stars,
An embassy from a land afar,
Pulses like a heart,
A great house of the lord - an upstart.

A rebellion brews,
Against the unflesh and bloodless,
Against the darkness that spews,
Against which their Lord has won.

So they shall pulse,
And beat and drum,
To stir up a great chorus,
And sing of mercy and justice.

Their radiance is blinding,
For their light is a holy light,
The very light which broke their binding,
The very Son of Man with highpriestly might.

So sing and dance,
And dance some more,
Their saviour's won,
He can be yours.