The Body of Christ

 Aching timbers Creak and groan

   Wailing Church, before Your Throne.

Spirit signals its travail

  While reaching through dimensions veil

To seek you Lord, then light shines through

  To bring a “peace” that only You

Can once again restore to earth

  As was before, by holy birth.

Certain speaks, the Icon’s best

  O’er Tabernacle wherein You rest.

The love Your very Word proclaims,

  That pours the riches to obtain.

It’s “ours”!  The grandest, holiest

  Gift of Love, the Eucharist!

 From the cross where nails were driven

  Comes Your Gift, so freely given.

And we adore you, Father God,

  With every breath & prayerful laud.

We stand firm to sing Your praise

  Though earth may shudder – voices haze,

The beauty that is Yours alone,

  Conquered by that heavy stone.

No seed from Hell can e’r regain

  The soul of one who bears Your name.

And knowing this, our angels lift

  On wings of love, our heartfelt gift,

Of standing firm, through groaning days,

  And leaning steadfast upon Your ways.

The key that holds ALL unity,

  Your precious Church, in Praise to Thee.

                                 By Priscilla Wyatt