Relax my weary soul this night
For you will not give up this fight;
The strong arm of the Lord is nigh
Fear not, soon will come the light.
My soul here desperately searches
Finding all my hearts dislikes;
Materials I have attained
Weigh heavy on my heart again.
When will I stop this madness?
Why do I insist I’m right?
My heart so filled with sadness
My tattered body refuses to fight.
Then dress me, anoint my wounds with oil,
Withhold my strength to stop my toil.
So, peacefully, I will rest in your bosom
And I whisper my last breath, Abba- your love so real.
David M. Brotherson
Nov. 12, 2003
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