How hard it is to calm one’s soul
When storm clouds settle in,
And when in life there grows a hole
Where dark storms rage within.
But often holes are dug by choice
And built by reaching hands
That claw and scrape to find a voice
To sing of foreign lands—
Of lands afar I’ll never tread
And paths I’ll never see.
Such longing builds within me dread
Until I rest in thee.
Lord, when in you I find my hope,
And when in you I rest,
Your peace enables me to cope
Like birds within a nest.
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