Holy
By Stephen W. Emerick
This body. His body. Our body. The Body.
Woven tapestry -
Holy hands of God
weaving
in me
ancestral threads
of holiness -
of my mother and father.
And their mothers and fathers.
And where You and I have been torn
there is no patch but your power,
making for stronger faith,
and where there is no room at the Inn,
there is room in all that You are!
And when I was naked
You wove for me a
robe of many colors -
and when that moment comes
as the thread goes through the
eye of the weaver's needle
You my shroud shall be.
And on that third day
we shall have risen and
that which You have woven in all of us
shall be oven into the Heavens -
and those who follow your
sacred starry sky
will come to find
there is not enough room in all the
universe to hold the love You bring -
yet all that is being woven
through the story that bears Your name
draws us to the loom
that weaves the leaven and whose
Word feeds us all
as we become the Word, of
Heaven.