It’s really not your fault –
Perhaps my fated cross.
Some days I live in clinging fog;
I swim as if in thickest bog.
And yet I see a Light
That keeps me in the fight.
Won’t God His precious promise keep?
He’ll surely make my soul complete.
Poor thinking got me here –
Poor thinking, and much fear.
Must reconstruct my mind;
New truths I need to find.
And here’s were God comes in –
His life must grow within.
His Word I must digest
And of my fear divest.
The past I must let go;
The lies and fears forego.
The resurrection nears –
Let there be joyful tears!
clarakatalin 
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