The old songs still sing themselves in my soul.
As other mighty fortresses of faith crumble in my mind,
the old words and old melodies echo in my soul.
“Lead on oh King Eternal”
“Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound”
“Redeemed how I Love to proclaim it”
“There is power in the Blood”
“Good news! Chariots a’comin!”
as if obeying some command performance,
whisper to me, sitting in my garden alone,
while the dew is still on the roses.
Still, as sermons, books, bread, wine,
moments of miracles, fade past remembering,
does the Father, standing a long way off,
seduce His prodigal with notes from far beyond the sun,
gathering him at the beautiful river
at last.