Jesus is mine and all is well, but I want
And sway by the swaying wants of men.
Love is mine and truth is real, but I feel
Less comfortable than before.
Song and story are mine, but true glory
Is not weighty and I think the beauty is me.
Goodness is mine and my hands are full, but I
Grasp the wind and must still learn
That no one else will do.
Here, the heart knows unsettledness: Place evades my certainty
And friends marry friends while I still long for that.
Another tomorrow came, and I have been carried by
Another will, but it all seemed so statically silent
Instead of brilliant with the news of my dreams come true.
Grace, astonish again
When I lean again to feel that it is not
Enough.
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