White Oak Cathedral – Gord Bamford

You can barely hear the wind blowin’
The last few leaves still hangin’ on
The moon’s out there in the East
And the sun’s just crackin’ dawn
A prayer whispered without a word
An autumn choir sings
It brings me back to who I am
When I’m not being me

Sunday morning in my white oak cathedral
How much closer can I really get to God
The birds my bells, the forest smells
The trees, a thousand steeples
Sunday morning in my white oak cathedral

There’s not a preacher preachin’ lessons
On life and love and sin
But the things I learn in silence
From the alter of the wind
Reveal a deeper meaning
Uncover truth within my soul
Feed a hunger fill a thirst
Give me the presence to let go

Sunday morning in my white oak cathedral
How much closer can I really get to God
The birds my bells, the forest smells
The trees, a thousand steeples
Sunday morning in my white oak cathedral

In a deer stand in ridge in Missouri
I see just a little of the light

Sunday morning in my white oak cathedral
How much closer can I really get to God
The birds my bells, the forest smells
The trees, a thousand steeples
Sunday morning in my white oak cathedral