Tom: C
C F
On the day I met the artist
C G
Like medium that speaks to man
C F
I said, “Please reveal your glory
C G
And as the paint drips from your hand
Am F
Use the brightest of the pigments
C G
The most beautiful of hues!”
Am C F
But the first stroke a dark shade of blue
C F
So I begged and then I pleaded,
C G
“I do not understand the means,
C F
Why would you put the hope inside me,
C G
if you would not paint the dream?”
Am F
He said, “Don’t let glory’s reflection
C G
distract you from glory.
Am C F
Remember that all good things come from me.”
C F
With each stroke his hand was steady,
C G
and I found myself in awe,
C F C
For as I stood back from the painting, it was not
G Am F
of me at all. And the darker shades he painted,
C G
the ones that I had asked for not,
Am C F
Had put me in the shadow of a cross.
