The Church, As it Is the Body of Christ


Small as a mustard seed and just as fair,

The seeds of faith are planted in the night,

Seeking their tiny space of warmth and light,

Asking but room to grow and prosper there.


Small as the seeds of faith, the hope of trust

Once-wounded reaches out into the day

For answering trust somewhere along the way

The fruit of pain and light, of love and loss.


We learn there is no other way but this

And that we cannot journey on alone–

Christ calls us all together; we come home,

And something grows, and flowers, and trusts, and lives.

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