Jesus was a carpenter
And he worked with a sow and a hammer
And his hands could form a table
True enough to stand forever
And he might have spun his life out
In the coolness of the mornings
But he put aside his tools
And he walked the burning highways
To build a house
From folks like you and me
And he found them as they wandered
Through the wild Judean mountains
And he found them as they pulled their nets
Upon the Sea of Galilee
And for a thousand evenings
While the day behind him emptied
He walked among the poor
And he stopped to touch the dying
And he built his house
From people just like these
It was on a shining Sunday
When he rode to old Jerusalem
And the palms they cast before him
Were the crimes they laid against him
It was on a storming Friday
When he climbed the streets to Calvary
And where he died today
Why, they're selling beads and postcards
And they tell us too
That that was long ago
But would he stand today
Upon the sands of California
Or walk the sweating blacktop
In New York and Mississippi?
Where the mighty churches rise
Above the screaming cities
Would he be a guest on Sunday
A vagrant on a Monday?
With the doors locked tight
Against his kind you know
Come again now, Jesus
Be a carpenter among us
There are chapels in our discontent
Cathedrals in our sorrows
And we dwell in golden mansions
With the sand for our foundations
And the raging water's rising
And the thunder's all around us
Won't you come and build
A house on rock again?
Jesus was a carpenter
And he worked with a sow and a hammer
And his hands could form a table
True enough to stand forever
And he might have spun his life out
In the coolness of the mornings
But he put aside his tools
And he walked the burning highways
To build a house
From folks like you and me