Past midnight, pen in hand and mind awake.
I write line one but draw a blank at two,
Unsure of what to do.
Imagination bade me start to make
This brief display of words, but I must do
Some work to see it through.
Not ev’ry line is given.
Directed, but not driven.
But so it is with you.
You work in us to will and work yet do
Not call us to inaction. We must take
Our crosses, follow you,
And trust when we can’t see because you do.
And you will ne’er forget, fail, nor forsake.