s t r e t c h

i stretch my arms to fullest height
to touch the sky in heat of night
to push ahead these trembling fingers
that kiss the keys with grief that lingers
i open up my arms sky wide
to welcome pilgrims there inside
we weep, we do, whose art is frail
while ne’er do wells with passions pale
accost those penning words of hope
for those with hands in need of soap
to wash away hypocrisy
to stand, though stained, in cleansing sea
Jesus, please hold these arms i raise
a surrender to the art You praise
to free the captives locked inside
the blackest box where fearers hide
You stretched Your hands from west to east
to bring us all a festive feast
amazing grave, its rock I wept
longing for Your secret kept
o blessed resurrection now
enliven fingers, teach me how
to write the words the Word applauds
while earthen hopes claw at the sod
that root me to this blessed earth
clothe me once again in mirth
i stretch my arms to fullest height
to touch Your smile awash in light

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