October 10, 2005

• The Pieces

  
  

  
  

  
  

  You alone pick up my pieces
  The things I have left behind
  In the deep wells of my soul
  Forgotten and dry
  
  From the depths you call them out
  With just a word they come
  Flickers of Hope are stirred
  At the sound of your voice
  
  The broken heaps of tattered life
  Lay before you weighed with shame
  But then you breathe, and life flows in
  In awe before you I am whole
  
  I was not made for this ruin
  So Your blood has made the way
  You were broken just for me
  There’s healing in Your hands
  
  

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  • 11:29 pm
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