My goal, Lord, is to believe,
Not just in Adam and Eve,
But through the mysterious mist
And power of promise
In your Book: if, in faith, I call,
You won't fail to answer and I won't fall.
But hey, God, is that really you-
I need to know--
When bitter winds blow
And I am blasted by a failed
Friendship or a dream derailed;
When assailed by doubt and clouds
Of darkness and fear crowd
In with brother depression to suffocate?
That's your light that breaks
Through the murk, right?
In the dark soul of the night,
You charge my deepest core
To energize and restore
And make free me again
From the doubt and sadness
That would keep me from
Being what I could have been.
And when I don't feel loved
Haven't you zeroed in from above?
There've been lonesome times
When the mournful moan
Of a faraway train cut to the bone
Of something deep inside
And my spirit cried
At a black mountain of despair
And I was drained
And wanted to be on that train
Anyplace but where I was:
Deeply down on a stormy night;
But with a flash of light
You strengthened me
With brighter thoughts
That made all the difference
In building confidence
And I realized what a prize
And a great God you are in my eyes.
Through your timely mission
You seed an inner vision
That supplants my pain.
Sometimes it's incessant rain
That threatens at first
Until inner light dawns and I thank you
For the fresh moisture for trees
And buds and which slake my thirst
And beautify rivers and seas.
I know, Lord, all these good things
Come from you.
And the dark moments
Accomplish your purpose, too.
For through them I turn to you,
Finding daily comfort in your Word.
And I believe I've heard
You in the sweet music of birds
And seen you in friendly flowers
Waving at me in rolling meadows
And coming to life in the bowers
Of greens and browns of boughs
Of trees and in gardens,
And ladies of households
Planting many more;
Or in the blue-and-white canvas
Of a windswept seashore
Where children build sand-castles
And others I dream
Of, reveling in beams
Spread over oceans by full moons
Or just napping on sleepy Sunday afternoons.
So thanks, God, for all you've done
When I've succumbed
And fallen into slums--
Ghettoes of the soul--
And you taught me to open scripture
To bring a new picture
Full of hope and faith and life
To guide me through daily strife.
Thanks, too, for the ways of friends,
When I seem to be at the end
Of my road, stumbling alone,
And a voice on the phone
Assures me a brother cares
And offers a welcome prayer.
Hey, God, isn't that you in that voice?
Yes, I prefer to make that choice.
I know when those stiff winds blow
And whip me to and fro,
A wheel and bright star come into view
To bring me into port on cue:
Friends in fellowship with you
And the marvel of scripture to see me through.