Open Heart Open Home

Down by the river, in the morning light,

With precious purple linen woven just right.

A woman of wisdom, with dignity and grace,

She gathered with the seekers in that quiet place.

Then came the preacher, with fire in his eyes,

Speaking of Jesus, the risen Christ.

The words found a resting place deep in her soul,

And Lydia believed, and was made whole.

Open heart, open home,

She welcomed the gospel, she welcomed her own.

From the river to her table, the Spirit made a way,

And the church found a home where the faithful could stay.

Oh, Lydia, lady of grace,

You gave God your life, your love, and your place.

Not with a crown, or a throne up high,

But with servant hands and an eager "Why?"

She rose with purpose, baptized that day,

A heart turned to heaven, she led the way.

She wasn’t a preacher, or a scribe with a pen,

But she opened her doors to the Gospel's men

She gave what she had, both humble and bold—

A house for the gospel more precious than gold.

Open heart, open home,

She welcomed the gospel, she welcomed her own.

From the river to her table, the Spirit made a way,

And the church found a home where the faithful could stay.

Oh, Lydia, lady of grace,

You gave God your life, your love, and your place.

So here’s to the faithful, quiet and strong,

Who serve in the shadows and still move along

The kingdom of heaven with hands that give—

Like Lydia did… the life that she lived.