The Altar and the Nest

The blue light flickers on the balance sheet A knot turns tighter in the stomach pit We stack the paper bricks of bonds and gold Trying to buy a hand to hold when we get old We build our castles out of fear and dust Watching the iron gates corrode and rust Asking the silence if we have enough To weather the storm when the seas get rough

But look above the smoke, the rafter’s edge A fragile wing upon a dusty ledge The swallow drops her twigs and woven leaves Right where the heavy, holy fire breathes She places young ones near the terrifying heat Finding a sanctuary distinct and sweet The smallest beggar finds a place to stay While we are anxious, working night and day

Oh, the foxes dig their dens down deep in earth The raven has a branch to claim his birth But the Architect of every spinning star Wanders the dusty road, weary and far The King of Glory has no place to lie No roof to hide him from the open sky The Creator less secure than what He made A debt of homelessness that must be paid

He walked past every inn and open door To become the poorest of the very poor Until He climbed the hill of skulls and dread To find the only place to lay His head Not on a pillow made of down and thread But on the timber, rugged, rough, and red The Cross became the nest, the strange relief The Altar where the Savior laid His grief

So let the nest egg crack, let the coins spill out We are trading in our fear, trading in our doubt Your future is funded by the blood and bone You do not need to build a house of stone! The work is finished, the account is clear There is no room for the financial fear!

Oh, the foxes dig their dens down deep in earth The raven has a branch to claim his birth But the Son of Man has found His final rest Upon the wooden beams, the bloody nest He became the exile so that we could come Into the Kingdom, finally find a home

A resting place that money cannot buy Beneath the shadow of the Altar high The sparrow knows it. The swallow knows it. My soul knows it. Home.