Every Hour Here

We ride our bikes around the circle

In the cemetery weaving

I wave up to You on the Cross

Am I to come upon You suddenly like this forever

Happy relieved You are here and I can see You

I can feel You

I can see You

You are like the ticket-half

I find inside the pocket of my old lead-raking coat

There all the time all the while forgotten

I so often seem to leave You

In churches and other islands

And on my beads where I can see You

I can feel You

I can see You

I take the ticket-half and put it on the table saying

This is God and He's here

Through my comings and my goings

But I walk past the ticket-half

I walk past the ticket-half

I walk past the ticket-half just

As I've walked past the Cross on our wall

Our self-importance grows so dazzling we don't see You

Dazzling we don't see You

Dazzling we don't see You

But gentle Jesus aren't You always

Aren't You every hour here

But gentle Jesus aren't You always

Aren't You every hour here

But gentle Jesus aren't You always

Aren't You every hour here