by J. Randal Matheny © 2011

No corner is this poetic space,
No hidden cove, no ghetto’s lock;
Here find a brother’s warm embrace,
A prophet’s voice, the Savior’s knock.

For heedless times and violent hands,
To godless hearts in disrepair,
These bards lift up the Sovereign’s plans,
They stand astride the global square.

Their song will not be feeble or faint,
Their tones not low, nor voice unheard,
With inner peace, divine constraint,
They sound out a vigorous word.

Come join to sing, or sit to hear,
Let notes and stanzas press their case:
We’ll hunt for truth, til all be clear,
To look upon the Father’s face.