Leaving Home

This is my home; the place where I belong.
The first tiny tendril has grown to be a deeper, spreading, tangled , gnarled root.
How can I leave my home?

Let the winds blow and set you free,
A holy spirit wind of Me.
Let the fire brightly burn,
A refining fire of Me.
Let the river overflow,
A mighty cleansing stream of Me.
All aboard, all aboard, come follow Me.

This is my home; the place where I am known,
Every friend and every foe; every hill and every hollow,
Whichever way the wind does blow,
This is my home.

Let the winds blow and set you free,
A holy spirit wind of Me.
Let the fire brightly burn,
A refining fire of Me.
Let the river overflow,
A mighty cleansing stream of Me.
All aboard, all aboard, come follow Me.

This is my home; the place wher I feel comfortable.
On my bed a quilt of patchwork, fashioned with the memories of my past.
How can I leave my home?

Let the winds blow and set you free,
A holy spirit wind of Me.
Let the fire brightly burn,
A refining fire of Me.
Let the river overflow,
A mighty cleansing stream of Me.
All aboard, all aboard, come follow Me.

To the buried root say, "He is risen."
To friend and foe say, "We're forgiven."
To the past say, "The future beckons."
Come follow Me.