The Heart Of Worship

A beam of late morning sun leans lazily against the empty pews. The pulpit looms tall and lonely. Silence waits at every door—mesmerising, inviting, welcoming silence.

I stand before the bare altar:

A mere speck before a mighty God;

Patchwork pieces of imperfection

Sewn together by the frail threads of faith;

Made whole in Him.

Standing on the edge of Faith, 

It’s a moment of courage, 

Of surrender, 

Of being lost and yet found.

Wrapped in the folds of the Master’s Love.

As the hours tick away, there’s a sense of timelessness

I soar on the wings of hope:

It’s never too late to bloom anew
on the altar of Faith.

“When the music fades, and all is stripped away

And I simply come, longing just to bring

Something that's of worth; That will bless Your heart

I'll bring You more than a song; For a song in itself

Is not what You have required; You search much deeper within

Through the way things appear; You're looking into my heart…”