Strangers in a New World

Rainbow

Introduction

Growing up both as an "immigrant's child," and as a "Christian child" at the same time has it's own unique dynamics . The Godly requirement to be a "stranger to the world" is easily confused by ethnic, and cultural differences, which are not really spiritual at all.

Spiritual separation from the affections of this world runs much deeper .


Strangers in a New World


When I was a young boy so many memories ago;

I’d stand by the mirror and wait with impatience,

Hoping that some day soon, I would grow.

I’d stare at the heavens and realise with reluctance,

That the sun kept passing me by.

Each day it would rise, and make a big circle,

And then quietly leave with a sigh.

My father would sit behind that old organ;

He’d pump out a Hymn or a Psalm.

Someone would read, another might knit,

And some would just sing along.

I’d lay on the couch and bury my head,

So that nobody ever would see,

That the sound in my ears and the cry in my head

Were wringing the tears right out of me.


Chorus: We were strangers in a new world

We were strangers in a new land.

Pilgrims of progress;

With a candle in our hand.


Apple trees and old tractors;

Chickens. And dangerous geese,

Dancing with childish laughter,

Watching clouds move past leaves in the trees.

We dug some holes, looking for gold,

And we taught some cats how to swim.

It’s impossible to number the times we were told

That we, we belong to Him.


Chorus: We were strangers in a new world

We were strangers in a new land.

Pilgrims of progress;

With a candle in our hand.


Well, a breeze started blowing the leaves from the trees;

Blew away old memories, and childhood fantasies.

And the sun still keeps on rising and making big circles,

Each day, it still passes me by.

And sometimes I’ll stand in front of the mirror,

Trying to wipe the lines from the edge of my eyes,

And I try not to number the times or the reasons,

I’ve laid on a couch and I’ve cried.

And if I could count the times I was told

That we belong to Him,

And if there is only one small thing that I can leave for my son;

I’ll pass him my candle, and I’ll say just as often,

That we, we belong to Him.


Chorus: Now they are strangers in a new world

Strangers in a new land.

Pilgrims of Jesus;

With His candle in their hand.

rh

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Rainbow

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