A song in exhaustion.

This is a song for chapped lips and damp, itchy eyes,
A song for weary bones that creak and bodies without rest,
A song for plains of worry where fears fall like rain,
Sung to the Only able to make things new again.

***

Take what pitiful things I have,
Small tokens of my disgrace,
And let me leave them at Your cross,
Meaning found in such a place.

And this exhaustion that surrounds me,
May I shed it like a coat,
And may I enter your sweet rest,
Though storms rage around my boat.

And may Your goodness silence me,
And bring me stillness deep,
And find me close beside your Son,
The true Shepherd for this sheep.

And may I rest upon the lap,
Of Him who bore my pain,
As a bleating lamb would sigh,
Upon a lion's fiery mane.

And let me not forget this place,
Of solace true and fast,
And may my weakness enter in,
And there find peace at last.