Suburban Hymn

Suburban Hymn by George E. Clark

 (Tune: A Mighty Fortress Is Our God)      
(Printer-Friendly Music and Lyrics)

A joy it is to serve our God
With finer moods prevailing.
But weekly business seems to laud
Our better natures’ failing.
On plane, on train, in car,
We know not where you are;
Play hawk instead of dove,
Choose beauty over love.
Which mountain are we scaling?

A joy it is to serve the poor
When sunshine warms the morning.
Yet later on we’re not so sure
And fear of want comes storming.
We’re precious in God’s sight
Yet flee the poor each night.
And then we wonder why
We don’t know those nearby.
What lessons are we learning?

A ready source of warmth and strength
A haven, safe, aspiring:
To keep a home whose breadth and length
Of upkeep leaves us tiring.
How tempting does it seem:
Seek solace from a screen.
The young stay closed inside,
Not smelling earth and sky.
Whose joy are we inspiring?

The greatest stars of humankind
Embrace a servant’s calling.
But often it is hard to find
Whose burden we are hauling.
Cut off by sea and shore,
It’s easy to ignore:
A child who works alone
For pennies to send home
And send our prices falling.

With sore, uncertain hearts we shrug
And ask if God’s still speaking.
A still, small voice begins to plug
Our hearts where they are leaking.
It sets our lives ajar:
God loves us as we are.
Let’s listen silently
For that’s when we can see:
We make the world we’re seeking.