When first my heart did yield, yield to tender flame,
I dreamt of love, unblemished, pure and true,
Yet she, for whom my silent, my silent longing came,
Departed swift, and dimmed my skies of blue.
And dimmed my skies of blue.
O grievous night!, O thoughts that gnawed my mind,
Like shadows deep, that whisper ceaseless dread,
No rest, no peace, no solace could I find,
For sorrow made, its dwelling in my head.
Its dwelling in my head.
My spirit sank, beneath that heavy tide,
A captive bound, bound in chains, none else could see,
I walked alone, though multitudes beside,
While silent wars, did rage unceasingly.
Did rage unceasingly.
Yet lo! a voice, more gentle than the dawn,
Did call unto my weary, my weary burdened soul,
“Come unto Me, thou faint, thou overdrawn,
And I shall make, thy wounded spirit whole.”
Thy wounded spirit whole.
Then felt I warmth, no mortal hand could give,
A nearness sweet, unto the broken heart,
For He draws close, close to those who scarcely live,
And heals the wounds, that tear the soul apart.
That tear the soul apart.
“Cast thou thy cares on Me,” the whisper came,
“No grief too great, no burden I disdain”,
And in that grace, beyond all guilt, all guilt and shame,
I rose from depths of sorrow, sorrow and loss and pain.
Sorrow and loss and pain.
For not in fear, hath man his spirit found,
But power, love, and mind, made firm and clear,
Thus was my, my trembling soul, made wholly sound,
And clothed anew, with courage void of fear.
With courage void of fear.
Not by mine strength, was I from ruin raised,
Nor by mine wisdom, did I find the way,
But by His mercy, evermore be praised,
Who turns the darkest, darkest night to brightest day.
Darkest night to brightest day.
Now hear me, thou, whose lips are sealed, by dread,
Conceal not wounds, wounds that fester deep, inside,
Speak forth thy pain, let healing paths, be spread,
For truth once voiced, shall turn the rising tide.
Shall turn the rising tide.
And thou who hearest, harden not thine ear,
But lend thy heart, with patience, patience and love and grace,
A listening soul, may calm a fearful one,
And guide the lost, to hope’s abiding place.
To hope’s abiding place.
We are not made, to walk this road alone,
But bear each other’s burdens, burdens through the strife,
Let seeds of love, where seeds of pain are sown,
Bring forth the gentle, the gentle harvestings of life.
The gentle harvestings of life.
So trust in God, though storms around thee roar,
For He restores, what sorrow hath undone,
From broken heart, He builds thee evermore,
Till night departs, and thou behold the Sun.
And thou behold the Sun.
“To God I cast my care – He hears, He heals, He stays.”
~ Kiprono