Tuesday, July 15, 2008

He Is.

He knows my every thought. He's well aquainted with sorrow.
His gentle hand is powerful and holding my tomorrow.
He's the Master of the world and a conquerer of Kings
Yet He visits me in brokenness and to my hurt He sings
A smoldering wick, a bruised reed, my spirit He won't break
He's a Fire all consuming, yet for me His heart does ache.
My world is tossed about like the crashing of the sea
Yet He's master of the waves that He walked upon for me
I can face tomorrow for He holds me in His hand
And when I'm weak and trembling, His footprints mark the sand
So I will not fear the valley of the shadow of death
Though young men fall and stumble, He holds my every breath