Thundering forth from Sinai’s height With lightning, smoke, and fire light— An invitation to take God’s grace, And prepare the soul to see His face. Yet Israel’s children with hardened heart, Chose, instead, a lesser part.
A teenage boy treads alone, a road that’s dusty, dry; The cigarette in his hand, glows against the starry sky. And in this place his soul is stirred by heaven’s holy hand, And he wonders if there is a God and what He might have planned.
There’s a tale of a mother who lived in a shoe, When faced with a challenge knew not what to do. So the family had dinner without any bread— Then she spanked all her children and sent them to bed! Why we rehearse this nobody knows, So let’s faithen the story and see how it goes. . . .
Doing laundry is such a chore. Sort the colors? I ask what for? Then throwing whites with red and green, I toss them all in the wash-machine. But all my smugness turns to dread When all the whites go tie-dye red!