At the end of a week of fire and pain,
I long to gain some higher need,
some place both above and beneath
the press of hurt and anger, fear and grief.
I long for the nearness of hearts
that share a common zeal,
the healing of forgiveness,
and the soothing touch of unhurried conversation.
I long for the quiet ride,
a place of hiding among the shadows
of trees and stones, a holding calmness
in my own solitary drift between trail and path.
I long for the lifting of Spirit,
the quiet Word spoken to the heart,
the soothing sense of Peace and Presence,
the strength of humility and the gentleness of grace.
In the wake of passing trials,
surrounded by denial and faltering assurance,
knowing the true, sure things
whose endurance is beyond storm and ashes,
I will hold to love, hope and faith,
and I will wait for the will of my Redeemer.
Even when I cannot fathom the present moment,
I will trust the coming hours
to the power of him who is able
to keep all things that I have committed
unto him against that Day
when every secret thing shall be revealed.
When hope is received and faith is sight,
I will still hold to the love
which has guided my life
and covered a multitude of sins,
including my own.