I approached it with trepidation
asking, does this thing even float?
shut up and hop in he laughed
and please, don't rock the boat.

I  am, a middle-of-the-roader
careful not to get anybody's goat;
not to hurt anybody's feelings
to behave and never rock the boat.

It was a chilly, windy, rainy day
I'd brought a sweater and a coat;
I side-stepped gingerly aboard
making sure, I didn't rock the boat.

I was aware of his funny, wary look
I made sure to smile and not to gloat;
I seated myself with slow anticipation
serious and stern, not to rock the boat.

Relax,  I think we're safe in this old tub
if it sinks, then by god that's all she wrote;
one more time, I remind you, my friend
be alert and aware, and don't rock the boat.

I washed my sins down by the river
cast them on rocks, baked by the sun
the Holy Spirit came into my soul
proof that my old life was done.
I repented and was found worthy
all the past was gently wiped away
all the old was buried very deeply
once I found and walked his Way.
Darkness faded from my vision
replaced there by a god-like light
it was then I knew, I need not fear
the coming days and coming nights.
I gave my burdens up to Him on high
the excess baggage faded from my view
I found the truth that set me free
from all the earthly things that I once knew.
I washed my sins down by the river
the blood of Christ did all the rest
I stood tall, before my Savoir
knowing I had passed the test.

Once the golden bowl is broken,
once that time becomes our foe;
then who you are is lost,
from the person we did know.
When friends don't recognize you,
because you don't know them;
when you forget, who you are,
you've moved closer to the end.
Once the golden bowl has broken,
only troubles lie ahead;
only heartaches round the corner,
becoming days you dread.
Memory fades into the night,
and in your house, you're lost;
the mind is jumbled, rattled,
your dreams are all but tossed.
Then the golden bowl is broken,
no matter how you've tried;
because the soul's now in limbo,
because, its heart has died.

Your love is like the weather
it changes with the day
sunny, cloudy, windy
rain that comes my way.

Your love is like the seasons
in the summer it is hot
and in the throes of winter
often it is not.

Your love is like the weather
it's gloomy or it shines
it's like the fickle wind
that can moan and whine.

Your love is like the seasons
in spring when fog is low
and misty dew appears
or in the fall when colors glow.

Your love is like the weather
it's often clouded over
or like the splendid sun
upon a field of clover.

You are the king of all that matters
watching what we do we trepidation
as we break Your Ten Commandments
and fall apart, divided as a nation.

We seem to think that we don't need You
sinning, throwing caution to the wind
forgetting where in the world we came from
pushing away memory of where we've been.

Killing daily, babies while in their womb
accepting things, we never did before
becoming strangers to ourselves
as we walk, mindless, out the door.

Forgive us Lord, for our stupidity
have mercy, on our heedless soul
as we break, into useless pieces
all the things that once, had made us whole.

Have pity on the way we view our lives
with no reflection on our godless heart
forgive us, for our wicked, shameful ways
of which, by our mistakes, we form a part.

Sniveling was never part of my plan
it was getting snarky, getting out of hand;
but Springtime's is but a fickle friend
and in time, it all will surely end.
I had to get a shot to knock it out
rather than to let it drip and pout;
there was too much weeping of the eyes
too much sneezing, amongst the sighs.
Too much blossoming and blooming
too many juniper trees looming.
I fought it till I finally gave in
to put up with it any more would be a sin;
aggravation and suffering was misery
I was determined to not let it get the best of me.
A Kenalog shot brought me great relief
and at last, I freed myself m from needless grief;
until next year, when Spring comes around once more
and I am faced with it again, the thing that I abhor.

Be there with me Lord,
as I climb the mountain;
as I struggle onward,
to drink from Your true fountain.

Give me strength from sinning,
give me a touch of grace;
keep me on the narrow path,
that leads right to Your place.

Let me be forgiving Lord,
from injuries received;
give me Your just wisdom,
from which I'm not deceived.

Give me a heart that's full of love,
for every human being;
let me be Your shining light,
of strangers I am seeing.

Be there with me Lord,
still my insurrection;
and don't forget my soul,
on my day of resurrection!