out in the highways

Steven Curtis Chapman

Thereââ?¬â?¢s a chapel on wheels parked at a truckstop,
Somewhere in the southern part of Florida tonight;
Many are blown in by a strong wind:
Itââ?¬â?¢s the wind of the Spirit.

Thereââ?¬â?¢s a preacher with his head bowed
There at the altar,
Whispering a prayer as the people wander in,
Sayinââ?¬â?¢ itââ?¬â?¢s You, Lord, that theyââ?¬â?¢re lookinââ?¬â?¢ for,
Whether they know it or not,
And thatââ?¬â?¢s the reason Iââ?¬â?¢ve got to go

CHORUS
Out in the highways, out in the highways.
Maybe this will be the day they come to meet You on their way,
Out in the highways.

Thereââ?¬â?¢s a church down on the corner with stained glass windows,
But time has stained the windows till no light is shining through;
Those on the outside pass right by,
Lost on a dark endless highway.

Thereââ?¬â?¢s a banner on the church wall
They put up many years ago,
Reminding them that Jesus said ââ?¬Ë?Go into all the worldââ?¬â?¢;
They need the Spirit wind to blow again
And fan the flame of concern,
Take the truth that theyââ?¬â?¢ve learned and go

CHORUS
Out in the highways, out in the highways.
Open windows, doors and hearts, take the light into the dark,
Out in the highways.