The Savior we've longed for
Majesty and Honor--royal and priestly
But wait...instead...humbly born in a stable so bare
It causes me to wonder over and over
What way do you come to us now, Lord?
Aren't you hidden in the person we haven't forgiven?
Or in the hearts of those we find it difficult to accept?
And isn't that you in the homeless man--the cold concrete his bed?
Or those scorned by society so they can hardly raise their heads?
And the awkward teenager, doing everything to try to find a way to belong?
Those we are quick to judge
Because we cannot understand the depth of their pain
Or the reason they put others down instead--
The very ones we cower away from?
I think I see you there--behind their eyes
In their heart, in their pain, in their disease
In the gruffness of their voice, in the tears in their eyes
And I wonder if they see you, too--anywhere, everywhere.
In noone, in everyone.
And I wonder if I will respond:
Will I know you?
Will I accept you?
Will I welcome you?
Will I love you?
Will I make my heart your home?
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