Cry of The Soul


In the morning hour, even as the sun rises

Lord, I lift up my soul to You.

Declare my ways, O my God, Let me not wander in vain sorrow.

Guard my path and shelter me;

Lead each step of my years of age.
Lift me as an instrument in Your tender hand,

Shaped to serve - and longing to sing of You.

Pour me out to the afflicted and broken heart,

Lead me in understanding to the poor and cast down.
Let my spirit speak of Your goodness.

Let my years rise as a green plant out of ashes.

Restore my strength and deliver my feet from danger.

As Satan's snare are ever seeking to confound me.

 
The stars are but a plaything within Your hands.

This universe, Your creation, Sprinkled at Your feet.

All knowledge, but a portion ...

Dripped as water from Your cup into the minds of men.

 
Why does man choose to scorn ... my soul cries?

My lips grow numb with grief in their assembly,

My ears burn while they scorn that which is eternal.

My words of You are brushed as refuse to their side.

 
Oh God, forsake me not ! Open my lips to speak of Your goodness.

Count my faith as righteousness, I pray.
Write Your name on the tablet of my heart each day ...

That I may please You.



"The Lord is near to all who call upon Him, to all who call upon Him in truth.

He will fulfill the desire of those who fear Him;

He also will hear their cry and save them."

Psalm 145:18-19

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