“My faith has found a resting place not in device or creed / I trust the ever living one, his wounds for me shall plead”
Tattered old hymn books inspire me most. The melodic moments tucked away inside have filled the ears and perforated the lips of the faithful for centuries. Ancient songs plug the written word of God into melodies that are not only lovely, but also maintain the integrity of the confrontational, life-changing message of Jesus Christ in lyric.
And it is with music, under these verses’ influence, I attempt to pattern my thoughts – to issue a healthy dose of hope to the otherwise meaningless menagerie of modern music. In short, to summon the divine.
A collection of friends and I go on the road, step on stage after stage, joining in fellowship rather than worrying with specifics, trusting the holy spirit’s handling of our individual hearts to conjure up a tune or two – together. And it is here, through the strains of the fiddle, the rhythm of the snare, the color of the piano and the personality of voices we collaborate.
Lend us any old platform. We will gladly share our self-penned psalms, our hymns, depicting life as best we know.
“I need no other argument, I need no other plea / It is enough that Jesus died and that he died for me”
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Trying to find the words to “open book.” Can you let me know where I could find them?