Fit me for the battle, Lord,
Each morn anew, when I arise
To things around me, good and bad,
Give me to see, Lord, ope' my eyes.
Dulled by sleep and night's dark shades,
My spirit cannot pray aright
'Til Thou dost quicken with Thy breath
And bring anew Thy love and light.
My spirit is so cold and dull,
It lacks the impulses to move
It needs to feel Thy touch of fire,
It needs to know that Thou art love.
Like the sun, which every morn
Doth run the race, it's course doth take,
So may I rise and look above
My soul to fill, my thirst to slake.
Some spice, some balm, some precious word
Give to me as to make my way
From this dull lowland where I dwell
To heights above, new every day.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment