This is a quiet old house,

Complete with a dark stairwell and hidden basement steps.

Where ceilings are high and the lighting is dim.

Where generations of voices still echo their laughter,

Their crying, their lives.


Wood floors speak as steps play a daily game,

Then hold a breath of silence as walls sing with the wind.

No secrets kept from room to room,

For shadows rush each sound like messages urgent to be heard.


Every doorframe, bold and distinct, entices with its dance,

Its speech scripted from across the ages.

And to the windows like growth feeding from the sun,

This house points, then captures, as if to hold forever, a wisdom

Held to a gloried day.


Can we speak what our senses rush to our hearts?

Can we express the abundance we gather

When held so dearly by this place?

No warmth is greater.

No comfort so supreme.

And itís not from the lives that have lived here,

But rather, it is from Whom All Is Given.


Feel closely what is here, do not be deceived.

This is a dwelling place where God

Has been invited in to live.

Here His Son Jesus Christ came to stay.

This is where the Holy Spirit resides.

You can feel their presence.

You know He is here.


Blessed is this house.

For here you found the Lord.

Blessed is this house of the Lord.


Old House by Ronhales                                                                                                                                                        Psalm 27:4

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