Borrowed Breath

My soul seeks the forgotten art

            Of union with the risen Lamb,

            Communion with the great “I Am,”

Time with you, alone, set apart,

To seek and know your loving heart,

            To walk with you hand-in-hand.

My soul seeks out that secret place,

            Of fellowship, so rich, so sweet,

            A resting place, a safe retreat,

Where I melt into your embrace,

Where fear and anguish are replaced

            With songs around the mercy seat.

I find in you a servant King,

            My Redeemer and yet my friend,

            Whose depthless mercies never end.

The soothing balm which you bring,

Heals the wounds of sin’s sharp sting

            As you apply it again and again.

And yet I find, to my own shame,

            I neglect this trysting place,

            Oft too busy to seek your face,

This heart that once was all aflame,

Is now stone-cold, so I exclaim,

            “My Lord, yet again, I need your grace.”