The temp’ral fabric of my life
Is nevermore the same.
Past happy times, now days of strife,
No solid stitch remains.
The ground, it shakes beneath my feet,
The trees, they tumble down.
The earth, it burns with fervent heat,
All covered by death’s gown.
But I’ve been told there is a place,
A rock to stand upon,
A place to ever go for grace
And see the new day’s dawn.
A fortress built in heaven high
That never shall be moved,
It reaches down from holy sky
Its strength is ever proved.
This place, this fortress of the Lord
Keeps me in troubled times,
Through days when on my life is poured
A punishment for crimes.
My guilt will someday pass away.
My life will he renew.
In stillness then I’ll hear him say,
“I always did love you.”
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