Jars of Clay "See the Art in Me"

Images on the sidewalk speak of a dream's descent (We are constantly inundated with images. I've been to the LACC schools of Panama, a great work being done by missionaries like my in-laws, and the images of impoverished children with joyous grins will forever be with me)Washed away by storms to graves of cynical lament (But walk around downtown Seattle and it is much harder to feel the same pity or care)Dirty canvases to call my own Protest limericks carved by the old pay phone In your picture book I'm trying hard to see (Through a glass darkly as Paul puts it. And yet, despite wanting to see, the question is could I handle it) Turning endless pages of this tragedy (My own perhaps and yours as well--that is the great mystery of humanity)Sculpting every move you compose a symphony (The intricacies of great symphonies is astounding; how much more the masterpiece of humanity)You plead to everyone, "see the art in me" Broken stained-glass windows, the fragments ramble on Tales of broken souls,(The stories of the poor, the rich, the loved and unloved all are built somewhere on broken glass. Everyday, students wander into my class, their faces and bodies rambling on about tales I cannot fathom) an eternity's been won As critics scorn the thoughts and works of mortal man (And it is not just the critics as we think of them. Its you and I. Teachers, pastors, police, grocery store clerks) My eyes are drawn to you in awe once again (We sing that song in our churches: "I want to see your face" is the line, and I wonder sometimes if we are drawn to him only out of the absurdity of our own existence, in spite of ourselves because we know that to see him would be all the more painful because it would open our eyes to the way we really are.) And in your picture book I'm trying hard to see Turning endless pages of this tragedy Sculpting every move you compose a symphony You plead to everyone, "see the art in me" And in your picture book I'm trying hard to see Turning endless pages of this tragedy Sculpting every move you compose a symphony You plead to everyone, "see the art in me."