Dale Lloyd

Sunday morning comes again.
The gathered body lifts Your name—
a quiet harmony of hearts made one.
Not bound by title, form, or claim,
no fight for norms, no anxious proofs to see—
just Spirit-breathed, blessed unity.

No borrowed fire, no forced refrain,
no need to manufacture the flame.
We stand in what we did not make,
receiving more than we could take.

I never thought I’d see this day,
yet here we stand, and now I know why:
not sermons, prayers, or words from me,
no hardcore theology.

Love has come—
and gently stayed.
It lingers here, unforced, unmade.
Hearts at rest.
No need to flee.
We stand in grace,
our unity.