To you, oh Lord
I'm stretching my hands
with this aching body
I'm dealing between life and death
No long days to suffer,
no sharpened knifes
and no sleepless hunger:
Remember that my lost condition
caused dear Lord thy mortal mission
spear my soul, that day's perdition:
No more sorrow, no more tears
a fadding tomorrow
pale white lights expecting to hug me
dressed in shadows and lost I roam
to you I turn to
to you I turn to
to ease my destiny
I seek:.
All my prayers deserve thy spurning
yet thy eyes of pity burning
with the ship of my salvation
and thy rise be my station
in this awful separation: |