But I Praise You . . .

Lord Jesus, I fear the future with an awful, deep dread,
And I feel like a man who is already on the inside dead,
Though I know you’ve raised me up with You forever
And forever is a long time that never ends yet I shake!

Oh, Lord Jesus, I am now a man without any real home,
And I could write a tome about a weight of tribulation,
And how, in retrospection, I really ruined my whole life
But here I am now crying out and trying to reach You!

But I praise you for the sunshine, blue skies, soft clouds
And breeze so fine, and a bed – a place to lay my head –
And all that You have spoken to me and your great plans
And mercy You have shone; you have heard my groans

Do You have a plan for me as I lay me wholly before You?
Will You pick up the pieces of me, put me back together
Into what You want me to be? Can You still use even me?
This I ask as the future looks quite dim and very grim!

But I praise you for the sunshine, blue skies, soft clouds
And breeze so fine, and a bed – a place to lay my head –
And all that You have spoken to me and your great plans
And mercy You have shone; you have heard my groans

Out of pain with stains on my heart I write these words,
And the strain upon my soul is too much for me to carry;
Some sign or word of comfort I seek, now meek and lowly
As I slowly rise to my feet to pace this floor once again!

But I praise you for the sunshine, blue skies, soft clouds
And breeze so fine, and a bed – a place to lay my head –
And all that You have spoken to me and your great plans
And mercy You have shone; you have heard my groans

. . . You have heard my groans and mercy You have shown

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