Quaking Stones to Open Fields

The stones laid to isolate

Adamant in our containment

Shudder and quake

Made loose in their commitment

The shackles wrought to restrain

Heavy in ceaseless hanging

Now grasp empty air

With broken echoed clanging

Praise our God, King of Kings

Like the mountains shouting your glory

Like the hills in rolling worship

We lift Him up in psalm and story

Thorn of my flesh

How insignificant under the Lord’s brand

What was my pain now wiped away

By the piercing of His hand

In You we stand Lord Jesus

What was sheer reaching cliffs

Now an open field of golden fleece

Hair blown through salted whiffs

You call our name

With innate and intimate talk

Lamb to the world slain

Alive shepherd to the flock

Dear Brothers and Sisters

Defeat in our lives be contradictory

We stay and come to Him

For in Jesus, we share the victory

by Sean-Michael Tisdale