Lead me through darkness, for my way is known to You.
You have counted the hairs on my head and the sands of time,
Seen the end from the beginning, and adorned each brittle flower.
My ways are not Your ways, but I how would they were,
That love, like the alchemist’s stone, would touch my leaden heart,
Transmuting it to malleable gold.
My ways lead to futility, I cannot what I would.
In me dwells no good thing, except You dwell in me,
Then am I satisfied, for I shall wake up in Your likeness.
I am a child, Your child, still small in incompleteness
I must lean on You and learn, for You are my only wisdom,
My way, my Truth, my Life, Yourself my whole fulfilment.
So, not my way, but Yours; there is my hope, my freedom,
In the centre of Your will, where mystery turns to meaning,
In my heart’s most hidden place, continue Your redeeming.