You built us a private garden, where we could be together in the cool of the day
But we chose a land of our own.
*
You came to us as a cloud by day, and a fire by night
But when You spoke directly to us, we asked that You stop.
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You tried to guide us from afar
But we killed Your prophets, and demanded an earthly king.
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You sent us Your only Son
But we nailed Him to a cross.
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You made it so we could encounter You face to face
Yet, we still seek Your glory in some mystical cloud.
*
You invite us to come as little children
Yet we act as though You are unapproachable.
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You sent Your Holy Spirit to dwell within us
And still, we clamor for You to send something more.
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We claim to be grafted to the vine
But our branches remain barren of nourishing fruit.
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We’ve put Your name on our buildings,
But we’ve not made a place for You to dwell.
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What is man that You are mindful of him?
Yet, still You go to and fro about the earth,
looking for hearts that are truly yours.
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