Lord, a little hope is a good thing,
a little light, a little newness, a little chance.
Lord, a little hope is a good thing,
a little light, a little newness, a little chance.
Clouds amble across the divide, a perfectly blue backdrop;
the tree line is within arm’s reach, lone pines determined to live.
Ah Lord, if only I stopped to listen, give attention, eyes closed;
at home I would hear the music of the West.
Lord, I hope you are in good spirits today,
that you will forgive me, but I can’t keep myself.
Lord, we are torn on this last day:
we want to go home to our families.
Lord, it would be so much easier
if we could just preach trust, without having to trust you.
Lord, only you know what these servants give:
the sacrifices they lay on your altar –
week after week, Sunday after Sunday.
Today, Lord, we hand them back,
four years older, and we pray, wiser
In days to come you and I will have much to talk about;
and a lot of mischief to get into.
I try to keep up my speed, but I stumble over these words;
puzzled by these ideas: kingdom and your will
Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be your name;
we continue in a constant hurry, eager to get somewhere else
Our Father who art in Heaven we pray so quickly,
without so much as a pause to catch our breath
Between dust becoming and dust returning,
what does this reminder insist of me today?
Lord, it’s Sunday morning, and I’m at home;
the community is meeting, but I’m alone with you.
God, for you a day is like a thousand years,
and a thousand years are like a day
We beg you for peace, we are so weary of war.
We appeal for those in danger, whose very lives are at stake.
The grief of remembering what is not,
but could have been.
One nation devoted to spending money
on things we believe will bring us joy.
Why dear God, do you get our expectations up,
only to dash our hopes against a rock?