Someone was looking for a hymn by Paul Stookey today, and I thought of this one.  When I heard him sing it, with Susan Werner, it sent chills up and down my spine.  (Searched pretty extensively to see if it's in the DT or forum but can't find it by looking for "Stookey" or various parts of the title.)

Genie

FOR THE LOVE OF IT ALL
Noel Paul Stookey- ©1991 Neworld Media Music Publishers, ASCAP

In the beginning, as life became form,
The oceans heaved, the mountains were cleaved,
The firmament stormed.
At the center of being, immensely small,
Was the master of now, don't ask me how,
The Love of it all.

And the seasons were many,
Creation was new.
And there on a tree, deceptively free,
A forbidden fruit.
Upon leaving the garden, after the fall,
One thing was clear; we chose not to hear
The Love of it all.

But for the Love of it all
I would go anywhere,
To the ends of the earth;
What is it worth if Love would be there?
Walking the thin line between fear and the call
One learns to bend and finally depend
On the Love of it all.

"Irresistible targets"
I heard someone say.
They were speaking of angels
Who are so courageous day after day,
Gunned down on a highway, as we often recall,
I hear a scream; I have a dream,
The Love of it all.

Still the world is in labor,
She groans in travail.
She cries with the eagle, the dolphin,
She sighs in the song of the whale.
While the heart of her people
Prays at the wall,
A spirit inside is preparing a bride
For the Love of it all.

For the Love of it all,
Like the stars and the sun,
We are hearts on the rise,
Separate eyes with the vision of one.
No valley too deep, no mountain too tall,
We can turn back the night with merely the light
From the Love of it all.

And so we are marching to
"Give peace a chance,"
Brother and sister as one in this mystery dance.
Long ago on a hilltop where now the curious crawl,
A man on a cross paid the ultimate cost
For the Love of it all.

For the Love of it all
We are gathered by grace.
We have followed our hearts
To take up our parts
In this time and place.
Hands for the harvest,
Hear the centuries call:
It is still not too late to come celebrate
The Love of it all.

"Eli, eli, lemana shabakthani"
The Love of it all.