Let my speech be sweet:
Please help my intentions and actions
meet—that they may produce fruit
and higher fractions of Your perfection,
Your flawless state so high above our reach
yet drenched with love for each of us
who waits...and yearns for Your direction.
Please teach me to trust,
as I grow and ache and learn
and muster a semblance of boldness
amidst the cold pall of pain--
a stained smile basking in balm,
a broken bastion gripping His palm--
You hold the world, fastened in force.
You hold me too,
of course.
Keep me near Your heart
that I may feel the rhythm of Your will
and hear the part I am to play,
that I may be still against Your chest
and rest.
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