Lord, You had nowhere to lay Your head?
These days, we covet those open-air beds,
Where You relied on the softness of Abba
And His peace as a pillow to drift off on.
Lord, You sometimes had to flee elbows pushing on You.
These days, we long for the unmasked skin, too,
For when greetings once embraced life,
And we shared the same air without worry or strife.
Spirit of God, continue to blow where You will.
We invite You for knowledge, and now more than ever for feel.
These days, confined by Caesar,
We're more constrained to squeeze each moment for where You are.