Andrew Peterson - Modern-Day Bard

Discussion on another thread spurred me to show a couple of examples of Andrew's songs. Quickly becoming recognized as one of CCM's best, Andrew speaks to the church and to the individual at the same time, teaching and edifying the Body.

In His Grip, joshua


ISN'T IT LOVE
by Andrew Peterson © 2001 New Spring Publishing, Inc./ASCAP

Lost my luggage in Kalamazoo, same way I tend to lose my conscience too,
Another day in these dirty old blues and I don't seem to mind.
This is a thing that confounds me, You can find me; You surround and remind me,
I lose my way and I forget about You but You still remember me!

Isn't it love; this rain that falls on the sinner and the saint?
Isn't it love; this well that won't run dry?
Isn't it love? These mercies are made new every morning.

And when I think about that prodigal son,
I've got to smile when I see the old man run.
And I know that You love us the same 'cause the sun came up today.
Just as if we deserved it, just as if every one of us fools was worth it,
Truth is that we'll never be perfect but You love us just the same.

Isn't it love; this rain that falls on the sinner and the saint?
Isn't it love; this well that won't run dry?
Isn't it love? These mercies are made new every morning.

Isn't it love to look down from the sky
And see Your only Son on the cross asking why?
And somehow let Him die that way and not call the whole thing off...
All for a man here in Kalamazoo who loses his bags and his way sometimes, too,
But that was something that You already knew
And still You died for me.


THE CHASING SONG
Andrew Peterson © 2000 New Spring Publishing, Inc./ASCAP

Now and then these feet just take to wandering,
Now and then I prop them up at home.
Sometimes I think about the consequences, sometimes I don't.
Well, I realize that falling down ain't graceful
But I thank the Lord that falling's full of grace.
Sometimes I take my eyes off Jesus, and you know that's all it takes.

Well, I wish that I could say that at the close of every day
I was happy with the way that I'm behaving.
'Cause Job, he chased an answer, the wise men chased the Child,
Jacob chased her fourteen years to capture Rachel's smile.
And Moses chased the Promised Land, Joseph chased a dream.
David, he chased God's own heart; all I ever seem to chase is me.

Well, they say the race can only have one winner,
And you know you've got to pull out front to win,
God knows the only time I'm winning is when I'm chasing Him.

So, I wish that I could say that at the close of every day
I was happy with the way that I'm behaving.
'Cause Samson chased a woman, and he chased the Philistines,
I'm not quite sure what Jonah chased but I know he caught the sea.
And Cain, he chased the harvest, while Abel chased the beasts.
David, he chased God's own heart; all I ever seem to chase is me.

And Jesus chased the money men and He chased His Father's will,
He chased my sin to Calvary and He caught it on that hill.
And Saul, he chased the Christians 'til his blindness made him see.
David, he chased God's own heart; all I ever seem to chase is me.


CANAAN BOUND
Andrew Peterson © 2003 New Spring Publishing

Sarah, take me by my arm, tomorrow we are Canaan bound.
Where westward sails the golden sun and Hebron's hills are amber crowned.
So bid your troubled heart be still. The grass, they say, is soft and green,
The trees are tall and honey-filled, so, Sarah, come and walk with me.

Like the stars across the heavens flung, like water in the desert sprung,
Like the grains of sand, our many sons, oh, Sarah, fair and barren one.
Come to Canaan, come.

I trembled at the voice of God, a voice of love and thunder deep,
With love He means to save us all, and Love has chosen you and me.
Long after we are dead and gone, a thousand years our tale be sung,
How faith compelled and bore us on; how barren Sarah bore a son.
So come to Canaan, come.

Where westward sails the golden sun and Hebron's hills are amber crowned,
Oh, Sarah, take me by my arm, tomorrow we are Canaan Bound.

 

I would recommend any of his three projects:

Carried Along

Clear to Venus

Love and Thunder

I really wish more artists were writing like Mr. Peterson.