The Color Green

And the moon is a sliver of silver

Like a shaving that fell on the floor of a Carpenter's shop.

Every house must have its builder

And I awoke in the house of God.

Where the windows are morning and evenings

Stretched from the sun across the sky, north to south.

And on my way to early meeting

I heard the rocks crying out,

I heard the rocks crying out:

Be praised for all Your tenderness by these works of Your hands,

Suns that rise and rains that fall to bless
And bring to life Your land.

Look down upon this winter wheat 
And be glad that You have made

Blue for the sky and the color green
That fills these fields with praise.

And the wrens have returned and they're nesting

In the hollow of that oak, where his heart once had been.

And he lifts up his arms in a blessing 

For being born again.

And the streams are all swollen with winter,

Winter unfrozen and free to run away now.

And I'm amazed when I remember

Who it was that built this house,

And with the rocks I cry out:

Be praised for all Your tenderness by these works of Your hands,

Suns that rise and rains that fall to bless

And bring to life Your land.

Look down upon this winter wheat 

And be glad that You have made

Blue for the sky and the color green...

Be praised for all Your tenderness by these works of Your hands,

Suns that rise and rains that fall to bless

And bring to life Your land.

Look down upon this winter wheat 

And be glad that You have made

Blue for the sky and the color green
That fills these fields with praise.

-Rich Mullins