Hanging high for all to see, what is that I hear?
Thereupon the porch, a chime to tell the world
Telling all that at long last, the restful wind is near
Clinking glass, always ready, and never ever furled
Only one job they have, but each has the same
Each built different, and each design unique
Some whisper soft melodies and some sing inflamed
All designed to sing, both the strong and the meek
Not a wind chime, you see, that’s not the point
It’s us I’m talking about, us, the children of God
All unique, designed by God, but all were appointed
To share the gospel, so all may bask and stand awed
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