Spirit grieving deep inside
Wounded by the way,
It’s treated with contempt and scorn
By the foolish things men say.
How He wants to enter in
And move His children’s hearts,
Worshipping in their own way
Living out their part.
Whether mellowed by His presence
Quietly in awe,
Or shouting out His praises
As they spill out of the door.
Just like our fathers acted
When the Holy Ghost first fell,
And the praises of God’s children
Shook the gates of hell.
I want God to hear my praise
And hope Satan’s listening to,.
Sounding like a multitude
Even though we’re just a few.
If worship makes me look a fool
With drunken men’s behavior,
I’m just fulfilling scripture
As I exalt my Saviour.
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