He makes the dust dance, swirl and dip, sparkling in the sunbeams. Dance, dust, dance.

Swept up off the floor, the dust dances to an unseen, unheard muse. Dance, dust, dance.

When fallen in shadows, cold grey dust confesses, "I was always, only dust!" the dance, a miracle. (Dance, dust, dance.)


O My Love, Have I been dust to you? Did I put tears in your eyes, encumber your breath? I fumbled in this dance. Of dust I was formed and too often to dust I return. Would that I only, ever dance!

He teaches mere dust! Dance, swirl and dip, beautiful in sunbeams. Compassionate and gracious - we are not swept away, but up again and again and again into the light (Dance, dust, dance.)

Formed of dust - petty, dirty and dead - the wind passes over us, we dance (or not) and then we are gone. But from everlasting to everlasting His steadfast love is with the dust He makes to dance. Dance, Dust, dance.

Psalm 103