| Chris Rice :: Wind And Spirit | |
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I hear a sound and turn to see A new direction on that rusty weathervane Suddenly the dead brown leaves are stirred To scratch their circle dances down the lane And now the sturdy oaks start clappin’ With the last few stubborn leaves that won’t let go I can hear Old Glory snappin’ And her tattered rope now clangin’ against the pole And my breath is snatched away And a tear comes to my eye Feels like somethin’s on the way So I look up to the sky I look up to the sky and From the corners of creation I see the lifeless dust now resurrected From the corners of creation And like a mighty wind blows with a force I cannot see From the corners of creation Comes the Father’s holy breath Ridin’ on a storm with tender fierceness Stirring my soul to holiness Stirring my soul to holiness |
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