Lord, sometimes I feel
As empty as a tomb
Barren of love and shorn of peace
A pillar of stone in the flood of days
Alone, and hopelessly weary.
Whispering through the dry autumn days
A feral voice deceives me
An eyeless stare from the graveyard of time
Glitters its lies to lure me.
When did I turn off the narrow way, jutting thorns,
Unharmed under the shadow of Your counsel?
Where did the path broaden under my feet
The stones smooth with expedience,
shimmering well-traveled surface?
Lord, here on my knees
The littered road lays waste all mercy.
But where the shadow of Your cross
Reaches over me
A watchful grace
Had always been waiting.