The River

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A stream of sorrow runs through me

That I can’t turn or dam.
It’s born, not of the outside world,
But comes from who I am.

I feel it swelling every day,

It's coming on too fast.
And if I cannot stem its flow,
Then I shall drown at last.

I know the flow is rising fast

Because of all my fears.
They’re looming out in front of me
And feeding on my tears.

But I know that he never sleeps,

He hears me when I cry,
And he will stem the rising flood
Until that stream is dry.

The fears that sweep over me now

Well soon still and subside,
For he is my enduring strength
And in his strength I’ll hide.

Psalm 71:3

Be my rock of refuge, to which I can always go; give the command to save me, for you are my rock and my fortress.