In the midnight hour I call out to you, Lord.
You are my help and my strength.
When pain and sorrow overwhelm,
You enter the ravaging storm as a comforting balm.
Tears are my companion as in darkness I weep.
But you, Lord, are my hope and my healer.
You speak truth in the dark places,
Shining light, showing forth your holiness.
For in travail, I call out to you and cry holy.
In mourning, I weep for loss, but cry holy to you.
In shame, I repent of sin and cry holy to your name.
In worship, I set aside my will and cry holy is the Lamb.
You are holy, holy, holy. Holy is the Lamb.
7 September 2007 by Glen Alan Woods
2 comments:
You have captured the way I have felt sometimes.
I am so glad that God is my High Tower that I turn to in those times.
Hi Joy,
Thanks for dropping by. I am thankful the poem was a blessing to you. :) Please feel free to comment anytime!
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