The Stirring

The stirring.
The stirring.
There’s a stirring inside you.
A stirring behind you, please don’t look beside you.
A calling.
A motion.
To rise and be read of all that’s within you that’s meant to be said.
To call out, “a Savior! He’s born and again- He’ll come down, He’ll come back…”
But never say when.
And I am so lowly.
And I am so weak.
But nothingness speaks
And hunger, it reeks
Of souls wroth in havoc
And twisted with death
The angels cry bootlessly, tears wholly shed.
Where are the lost, now?
Where are the blind?
Swimming in darkness- my suffering kind.
O Great Divinity, where is your hand?
Cover in mercy this suffering land!
Cover in mercy, and buttress the weak
For they are your sheep
And they are the meek
And they are the ones I am eager to seek
To find, and to show,
And seeds I will sow
If only by mercy and grace will they grow.
For I am a vessel.
I am a vessel.
A stirring, a stirring.
There’s a stirring inside you.
A stirring behind you.
A calling, a motion.
To rise and be read of all that’s within you and meant to be said.
It’s meant to be said.
It’s meant to be said.
The stirring.
The stirring.
The stirring.
The stirring.