Sunday, December 29, 2019

Pick Me.

At the end of the stick,
Is it me You have picked,
I hope that we will,
Be closer still.

I don’t understand,
So many things,
But let one thing remain,
Lord, convict me again.

If there’s no other sign,
I will force my way still,
Carry on till I find,
Where the oceans are still;
Where You are,
Where You are.

Still I trust You’ve kept watching,
Even when I don’t feel it,
Lord, defend my cause,
At Your throne of judgement.

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