A Psalm Of Hope

Why do I lay bleeding alone?

Why has joy left me to die?

Despondency weighs heavy

As I try to stand, and yet I fail.

My failing hands cry out

For relief from this agony;

My dying heart pleads

For solicitude.

Hope comes to me, like

The calm after the storm,

And gently caresses the

Woes from my soul,

And serenity the balm

With which she heals

My fading essence.

Jocundity grips my hand,

And softly pulls me to my

Feet, and guides me to a

Better place, where agony

Cannot find me: in Your

Loving embrace.