the life i hold here is fragile;
the eternal you give, robust.
the dreams i have may shatter;
the plans you make will not.
the strength i have is waning;
your glory burns ever hot.
the love i offer is fickle;
your love does never stop.
my motives are truly little;
your passions, grand as the stars.
the reasons i give are lowly;
none can measure the height of your thoughts.
yet daily you descend, quite willing,
to empty yourself in my hands.
and always you rush to forgive me,
for the wounds i inflict once again.
there is mystery here that defies me.
there is hope for a promised land.
there is love striving always to free me.
Lord, grant faith, though i don't understand.