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.