The Piano

Where has the artist gone whose hands danced upon my ivory keys?

So many times I wonder what good he sees

Outside these walls and the safety here

Of people who love him and consider him dear

Why is it better, out on his own

Where troubles and struggles and darkness roam?

One girl in the congregation stands in the front row

As the crowd sings, she looks at me, and asks,

"Why did he go?"

She cries sometimes and wonders why

He would ever leave his church for a lie.

Why would he trade the affection of

This family for nothing but shallow love?

Where has the artist gone?

Will he ever return

T o once again bring music and to learn

That God is faithful, and truth He does show

But until then, the worship will be short one piano.