by Alex Reece
(Fort Wayne, IN)
Surrounded by a cloud of witnesses:
Those who know not our King,
Around their sin God grimaces,
With their persuasive sinners’ sting.
With this darkness we have one refuge,
One place to which we can go,
One place in which we’re infused,
With those with whom we can grow.
Woven into relationships,
With people who know why we live,
When the church silently, from the nation slips,
To serve, sing, and give.
Laughing, smiling, talking with them,
We finally feel at home,
In Christian love we fit right in,
Together with them we have grown.
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