Crawling When I Want To Run

Great is your faithfulness
And mine is not
I trip, lose sight, stumble,
Ignore Your helping hand,
Fall, flat on my face.

I wonder why I can’t get up.

Crawling through the mist
And murkiness of life;
Of thoughts, and feelings,
I try to make it on my own.

I wonder why I can’t get up.

I’m straining for the clearing
Grasping for air to breathe-
Clean, fresh, pure air –
Longing for the mist to rise.

I wonder why I can’t get up.

Perhaps You could help
But perhaps that would hurt.
As low as I am, as I feel,
It’s more comfortable than facing
The blinding, bright purity
Of Your Holiness.

I wonder why I can’t get up.

1/1/2006