Photograph

Words & music by Randy Boldt

The stain of fallen teardrops
On the photograph he gave me
Is now a part of the precious memory
Though I know it’s only paper
The image thereupon
Is what makes it so special to me

Photograph, photograph
Bread and wine is my Father’s photograph
Photograph, photograph
Bread and wine is my Father’s photograph

The worn and tattered edges
Here within my grasp
Remind me of the price that was paid
With the breaking of his body
The shedding of his blood
This portrait of love was made

Photograph, photograph
Bread and wine is my Father’s photograph
Photograph, photograph
Bread and wine is my Father’s photograph

Very soon I’ll see him for he’s coming again
That will be the hour, the precious moment when
I trade in all my memories to see him face to face
And the stain of fallen teardrops, his glory will erase

Photograph, photograph
Bread and wine is my Father’s photograph
Photograph, photograph
Bread and wine is my Father’s photograph