Besedila: Chris Rice. Past The Edges. Wind And Spirit.

I hear a sound and turn to see a new direction on that rusty weathervane
Suddenly the dead brown leaves are stirred to scratch their circle dances down the lane
And now the sturdy oaks start clappin? with the last few stubborn leaves that won?t let go
I can hear Old Glory snappin? and her tattered rope now clangin? against the pole
And my breath is snatched away
And a tear comes to my eye
Feels like somethin?s on the way so I look up to the sky, I look up to the sky and...
From the corners of creation
Comes the Father?s holy breath
Ridin? on a storm with tender fierceness
Stirring my soul to holiness
Stirring my soul to holiness
I see the lifeless dust now resurrected, swirling up against my window pane
And carried ?cross the distance comes the long awaited fragrances of earth and rain
And out across the amber field the slender grasses bend and bow and kiss the ground
And in them I see the beauty of the soul?s who let the Spirit lay them down
And it takes my breath away
And a tear comes to my eye
Feels like somethin?s on the way, so I look up to the sky, I look up to the sky and...
From the corners of creation
Comes the Father?s holy breath
Ridin? on a storm with tender fierceness
Stirring my soul to holiness
Stirring my soul to holiness
And like a mighty wind blows with a force I cannot see
I will open wide my wings, I will open wide my wings
I will open wide my wings and let the Spirit carry me
From the corners of creation
Comes the Father?s holy breath
Ridin? on a storm with tender fierceness
Stirring my soul to holiness
Stirring my soul to holiness