Jeff Leslie
Lyrics and Poetry
pg. 16
THE ANSWER TO
EVERYTHING-THE CHISEL-THE FIRE OF MY FREEDOM-
THE KISS IN THE GARDEN-HE LIFE THAT I’VE BEEN WANTING-
THE LOVE WEAVER'S THEME
“THE ANSWER TO EVERYTHING” by Jeff Leslie 8/16/04
When my body breaks down
You are the Healer
When I’m hungry
The Bread of Life You’ll be
When I'm lost and alone
Your arms surround me
Lord, You found me
And set my spirit free
Jesus, O Savior deep inside me
Together there’s nothing we can’t do
Peace is in the presence You provide me
The answer to everything is You
When the enemy comes
You are the Power
In my weakness
You show Your awesome strength
In the darkness of night
You are the Morning
From the heavens
Your Love will light the way
Jesus, O Savior deep inside me
Together there’s nothing we can’t do
Peace is in the presence You provide me
The answer to everything is You
Somehow you reached down
Beyond the span of time
You found me to astound me
And touch this heart of mine
Jesus, O Savior deep inside me
Together there’s nothing we can’t do
Peace is in the presence You provide me
The answer to everything is You
“THE CHISEL” by Jeff Leslie 11/10/94
I have longed to be like Jesus since the day I was reborn
With a heart molded by my Father, by His hands so strong and warm
For although my soul was perfect, my old heart had far to go
It was lofty and self serving-- never broken, hard as stone
But the only way to change my heart was not to mold like clay
He must carve it with a chisel that would break the stone away
So pain became my teacher and its lessons I learned well
As every trial would test me with each piercing stroke that fell
One day I asked my Father as He formed His shapeless art
“Where did You find that chisel, Lord, that breaks so hard my heart?”
Then He took me to a city somewhere long before my time
And showed me where a blacksmith, there, was working near his mine
The local king had ordered that some special spikes be made
To perform a certain service later on that ancient day
So the smith stoked up his furnace till it singed his heavy beard
And the strikes that made his hammer ring were heard by every ear
Then he spun the massive whetstone, pressed each spike against its edge
And the sparks shot out like lightening as he sharpened up the ends
The spikes, still warm from grinding, then were gathered in a cloth
And delivered to the mountain with the prisoner and the cross
Instantly I understood just what he made them for
The chisels used to shape my heart first crucified my Lord
Now each new stroke that life will bring I’ll welcome like a prize
For every chip that falls away will make me more like Christ
“THE FIRE OF MY FREEDOM” by
Jeff Leslie 6/13/91
Once there was a kingdom
A cold and dark domain
And everyone who lived there
Was bound by icy chains
The chains of sin and suffering
Brought endless cries of pain
And tears that filled an ocean
That fell like pouring rain
Beyond the cloud of darkness
A kingdom lived in light
And from there came a Saviour
Breaking through the night
His love like fire was burning
His life was sacrificed
And then a raging fire of freedom
Melted chains of ice
The fire of my freedom
Is shining from His face
And lighting up this place once filled with darkness
It's the fire of my freedom
That started with His grace
And found a resting place inside my heart
Oh, I've never been the same
Since I've given Him control
My heart pumps love with thunder
Through the rivers in my soul
Inside my spirit's burning
Where once it was so cold
The fire of my freedom
Is burning bright and bold
The fire of my freedom
Is shining from His face
And lighting up this place once filled with darkness
It's the fire of my freedom
That started with His grace
And found a resting place inside my heart
“THE KISS IN THE GARDEN” by Jeff
Leslie 3/9/95
From the start the Savior knew what was expected
For the prophecy was written on the wall
But His heart was unprepared and unprotected
For the kiss that was the cruelest cut of all
It wasn’t the stripes He wore
It wasn’t the crown of thorns
The cross upon His back was not His burden
And the wounded side
Did not create His cries
It was the kiss that He received in the garden
When the traitor sold his soul for so much silver.
I wonder if he ever thought of this
That his prize would have been life with the Savior.
If he’d only kept from giving Christ that kiss
So whenever I’m distracted by temptation
Or anything that turns my face from His
I remember I’m like Judas in the garden
When I sin, it’s like giving Christ that kiss
It wasn’t the stripes He wore
It wasn’t the crown of thorns
The cross upon His back was not His burden
And the wounded side
Did not create His cries
It was the kiss that He received in the garden