"The road goes ever on and on. Down from the door where it began," so Professor Tolkien says.

And our road is no different. We trod the stoney path one beat apart, my saviour and I. But, then we met at the cross, where his blood balm spread to soothe my wicked and woe filled world in love unbounded.

Together now, we rise through grace and on to hope, to faith, to glory and life eternal, on and on.



The cross, the cup and the candle

Redemption, rememberance and revelation

God's gift of glory.



I lean upon the wood at Your altar, the rail worn smooth by countless hands before me, to partake of the mystery of You.

I kneel at the foot of the rough hewn cross where You spilled Your blood to wash me clean.

I drink from the simple wooden cup of Your love and

I fall upon my face, letting go the fruit I picked from the tree of pride.



The tree is old. Storm blasted, its branches gnarled, it's fruit sparce and sour.

The tree was gone its pieces hacked and sawn, strewn carelessly among the stones of others gone before.

Then came creator. Sorting and selecting, he set wood on lathe and turned and turned. Paring away to reach the deep heart.

The tree was dead but in its place a cup. The storm wracked branches and harsh winters the times of fruit and famine are all written clear on its polished surface. A thing of beauty now, to catch a saviour's blood.



An object that we perceive as red is not actually red. It is all the colours but red. The object absorbs all the colours of light's spectrum but reflects the red back to our eyes. So it is with God. He is not the things we see around us. What we see is only a reflection of his majesty and glory. He is much, much more.



You are the rock imperishable. You stand firm above the waves; your beacon shining undimmed throughout eternity.

We are the pebbles rolled smooth by the storms of life; tumbled and tossed exhausted upon the strand at your feet. But, slipped into your life-giving water we shine, glowing with the inner light of your love.



He did not put His love in a box. He poured it out with his blood to feed a hungry world.

He did not put His creativity in a box. He lavished it upon every plant and creature to bring infinate diversity.

How then, can we put God in a box?