Wind song

The Christ of my youth was born in a manger

And died on a cross on a hill

Defined by his sacrifice, taught by His Word

We inherit His love through His will.

The Christ of my youth was sufficient for me.

His gentlest touch so much more.

And I loved most the me that I found when I dared

To live my life as He had before

The Christ of my youth gave up all of Himself.

His pain was His life’s serenade

And in sharing the burdens of those that I loved.

I shared in the music He made

The Christ of my youth was a voice in the wind.

Everpresent, a mentor and friend

Asking nothing except that I love all He loved

In return for His grace without end

The Christ of today chooses prophets with hair.

His program is broadcast each hour.

His message is filled with the promise of gold.

His asking price, only a dollar

The Christ of today heals sickness and pain.

With the touch of a manicured hand

And His voice is a scream to an audience wild.

While His music is played by a band

The Christ of today lives in monuments built.

With the coins of the hungry and weak

While security guards keep the poor from the front

Where the rich and the powerful speak

The Christ of today offers each true believer.

A life free of trouble and lack

And guarantees each dollar sent in His name.

Will result in three more coming back

The world of tomorrow is a mystery now.

Our fragility painfully taught.

Our science and math seem no match for the day.

That our greed and our anger has wrought

The world of tomorrow seems a place to be feared.

And we seem as a people cursed

Desperately searching for miracle cures.

In the depths of an empty purse

The world of tomorrow seemed too bitter a gift.

To bequeath to the children, we bore.

Before, the voice in the wind called to me once again.

Before hearing His music once more.

The world of tomorrow may cost all of myself.

And the Christ of today may wail.

But the Christ of my youth is eternal and true.

And His wisdom and love shall prevail