My church is so vast it reaches the heavens
It can’t be contained or bottled or sold,
Its spires are seen in the wings of a blue jay
And the limbs of a tree as its branches unfold.
My church is so deep that it reaches life’s sorrows
It hears every longing and sees every pain,
My church is a servant, its heart is a message
It doesn’t need self-adulation or praise.
It beckons each stranger and all weary travelers
Who sojourn by day and into the night
They open its “doors,” the Arms of the Father,
Immediately loved and immersed in His light.
ALONG THE WALL by Leigh Nash
Looking for a House of Worship?
Here’s an invitation for you:
Welcome all Rastafarians, Hindus and Jews
The Blackman, the Redman, the hurt and abused
The Proud-hearted, fatheaded, meek and the mild
Our doors are all open – you can come as a child!
There isn’t a front seat, back, side or center
Just come as you are – enter, enter!
Hungry or fed, come alive or come weary
Crawling or leaping, bright-eyed or bleary.
All Welcome! All Welcome! All Welcome, we say!
We can’t wait to see you and love you today.
– by Shalameth