Wovenhand
In the Temple
Surely the stone will cry out...
Cry out from the wall
And the rafter will answer back
It is finished He has loved them all
From the framework he remembers
Himself...what he looks like in the mirror
He does sing over himself just to hear
...just to hear
This is not my home
This is not my home...I am nomad
Spread out above the heads
Of the living creatures
A crystal vault of glass reflects
His holy features
It is not possible to be renewed again
This is done is done is done
The lamb the lamp the son
The lamb the lamp the son
In His temple now
His tent of flesh and bone
Blessed be Egypt my people
Assyria my handiwork
Israel mine inheritance
The black and spotted sheep
They shall be my wages
To the uttermost for thy possession
O upright one
You make the way
Of the righteous smooth
What shall we say
Of such wonderful things
Of the fruit of lips
That confess Thy name
That confess Thy name
O upright one
You make the way
Of the righteous smooth
Of the light of day
O righteous one