(about 1997)
Great Creator
Healer of all
Father; my own spirit's life,
hear my cry this empty night.
I give my worship,
my love, as Thou givest me.
Forsaken I am not.
But stopped I feel.
Thankful for this life,
the opposition Thou hast allowed;
submitting to Thy will.
But know my heart.
For these days shall pass, and soon
I will kneel at Thy feet
my chin resting in Thy scarred hands,
reminding me
bad things happen to good people.
And look, and let you look
into my soul
where no one else has seen,
And cry what no one else can understand
and heal me.
I feel in Thy creations the perfect music
of the wind in the trees,
the rivers of meadows,
the gentle fall of rain.
All You created sings clearly;
pure perfection.
No force, no shove,
but obedience.
Canyons are carved,
things grow and change.
But when angels sing,
it is truth, it is free.
The voice reaches and warms
the hearts of people.
Cold people, hurt people. Existing people.
People You created... perfectly.
People who can become angels
People like me.
