If I were to **** someone Without all these witnesses Someone without family Who didn't know another being
If that person was dead Would anyone notice
Maybe if it was an accident Maybe if I hid the body Maybe no one would ever know Would ever care Would ever want to know, To care, About a person Who had had a life It was a lonely life Probably a sad life
Here I sit in this holy room Surrounded by God and a heavenly host Of saints and angels who give him glory. Each changed by the body and blood The power of love and beauty in the sacrifice. Here I sit in this holy room A witness to the saving power A devotion to the perpetual presence Of Christ with us and in us. We are each bearers of light, bearers of Christ; We carry him in us wherever we go. Here I sit in this holy room To listen and take in this wondrous gift. I choose to accept this gift. How can I not want to share this love with others? How can I keep from singing and shouting His name? Here I sit in this holy room Holy Spirit fill this place and my soul, Uplift them to the throne of God above. Start a fire in me that cannot be quenched And set in me the bright flame of love and passion. Lead my feet and guide my steps along the path Be my compass and my Northern Star So I may never lose my way; So I can always find my way back home. Here I sit in this holy room To add my voice to those around the world At this moment praying for a change In others and in their own lives: Praying for safety and peace, Understanding and patience. Praying for survival, praying for the faith's revival. Praying with men and women past and present To call upon your aid as we aid those in need. We pray for many things: our families, friends, nation. We pray for each other, we pray for ourselves. Lead us to you, take us closer to your merciful heart, Love us and heal us and teach us where to start. Here I sit in this holy room I give thanks for the gift of undeserved love And cast my gaze to Heaven above.
This Holy Room and He Is With Us were written during Adoration at St. Isidore in Bloomingdale. I went there on a whim one afternoon. The church was supposed to be closed, but I got lucky and I was let in to pray. It was so cool!!
The limping man entered a world of difference and prejudice carried by civilization. Sorrows beyond our understanding celebrated the right to be alone in wasted conformity. He is ashamed inwardly of transcending fear making persistence step into impulse. His cure hooked the tyranny of repeatedly abused witnesses with harassing all freedoms. Injustice regained its function by stretching a new idea of the conscious enemy. -s.r.b.