The wind blows the grass, into rapturous response
Bending towards the maker, the king has his court
His will is for all to prosper, but with interruptions
Dreams of young are to thrive and elders to survive
The truth is lost in the seeking of our own pleasure
To desire, to hunger and find victory, the treasures
Some of the grass will bow, others be broken down
In the end the voice of the creator of wind is heard
Songs of redemption are a sound on sacred ground
Psalm 95-6
Come, let us bow down in worship,let
us kneel before the Lord our Maker;
