To Believe

Where has my faith flown?

leaving me to the misery

of godlessness

when You are my own?

And still You have shone

like a mystery

of lovingkindness

that—can it be—I have never known?

When were the seeds sown?

Or have the vines of death,

present from birth,

slowly and deftly grown

to choke and leave me cold as stone?

How could I count demons’ breath

of more worth

than my LORD’s upon His throne?

This treachery is my own, my own!

Bend down, Oh Lord, in Your mercy

and by Your kindness

cover my sin in the blood that atones

for Your heart is well-known

to any with eyes to see.

Oh Lord, mend this mess

of me, rebuilding, with Your words, every bone

that I may stand forever on Your promises alone.