Struggle

Struggle, struggle

       strain and toil

                  busy, tired soul

Fruitless work

       and prayer forgotten

                    bitter thoughts

             absence of praise

                  these wretched days

My withered, stricken mind--

             The serpent seeks to wind

his twisted body,

          squeezing round the heart

    and draining life and joy.

The bubble of this earth

          fretting round

                  my weary soul.

   The hole of haste

            emptying peace and rest

                    and blessing.

    Rain pours down--

          the dripping drone

                 of stress,

                      duress.

      I cry to Him,

           cry out to Him.

The Spirit soars,

     strengthens my bones,

           restores

      and living water

races down

     the banks

          of this poor soul.

Gushing,

     running,

          grace restoring,

                    mercy moving,

      comfort streaming,

my heart flooding

        with His love.