So I push open the old oak door
My soul is stilled, my spirits soar;
A hush, a fragrance all around
Tell me I am on holy ground.
Hundreds of years of praise and prayer
Hang like incense in the air;
A golden cross on the altar stands
Polished by careful, prayerful hands,
While flowers of living radiance shine
In beauty wrought by love divine.
With sapphire, emerald, ruby, rose,
Purple and amber-each window glows,
With angels, saints, translucent, bright,
Shepherds and lambs of pearly white.
The life of Christ in grace arrayed
From manger to cross portrayed,
Then risen in glorious majesty
To reign in heaven eternally.
The font, where babes in long robes dressed,
The stone floor, worn by reverent tread,
The wooden pews where prayers are said;
The pulpit by some steps is reached
Where countless sermons have been preached.
I sense the sacred atmosphere
Of comfort and forgiveness here,
And for some moments humbly kneel,
God's presence and His peace to feel.
Refreshed, I step outside once more.
And gently close the ancient door.
