Lost within the witch’s woods,
The darkened woods, the wicked woods,
Lost within the witch’s woods
Where few shall follow after.
Somber are the witch’s woods,
The vilest woods, corrupted woods.
Somber are the witch’s woods.
I fear the sound of laughter.
Save me from the witch’s woods,
The stony woods, the dying woods.
Save me from the witch’s woods
And all who follow after.
Set me free to Aslan’s woods,
To living woods and thriving woods.
Set me free to Aslan’s woods,
And change these woods hereafter.
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Please help me, LORD, to pass this test,
To wait within this purging flame
In faith that you know what will best
Exalt your holy name.
Correct all misdirection of
My wants until my will fits thine,
My soul steeped long in faith and love,
A branch bound to the vine.
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To be where one is present with no thought
For how one might escape the present state.
To hold that one is held when one feels caught.
To feel the urge to run yet still to wait.
To know that his provision is enough,
His grace sufficient for the task at hand.
To recognize the road indeed is rough
And follow still with faith in his command.
To seek his reign and righteousness above
The chasing of all momentary needs.
To trust that ev’ry test is ruled by love.
In darkest valleys, still the Shepherd leads.
From worry and comparison refrain;
His sov’reignty and purposes remain.
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We want but are not satisfied in gain,
And so we gain new wants to add to old.
This futile journey is an old refrain
Of wants too weak to trust the Story told.
“Our hearts are restless till they rest in thee,”
The saint once wrote, and still his words resound.
They ring from Africa across the sea,
True both on foreign and familiar ground.
For we were wrought to reckon with our ends,
To know the purpose t’ward which passion points:
Temp’ral desires call for that which transcends;
What leads to life divides marrow and joints.
O LORD, align our wanting with your will,
And turn our hearts to you and so fulfill.
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The quoted line above refers to a line from Augustine’s Confessions.
Palms outstretched in offering,
Bowing low, I meet my king.
In humility, I sing.
In the market, in the square,
Souls surround me. You are there.
Though I move, you hear my prayer.
In the darkness cold and still,
As I sit against my will,
I look up and you fulfill.
Through the music and the word,
Worship serves to undergird.
I receive and I am heard.
May my posture ever be
Tempered by eternity
As I learn to walk with thee.
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Thanks to Maci for suggesting the title and topic of this poem.
I neither like nor understand your “no,”
Yet neither are required for me to trust
That you make straight the way I am to go
E’en when desires give way to thirst and dust.
If you withhold no good thing from your own,
Then your withholding must be for the best.
I may feel I am utterly alone;
I know you have a purpose for this test.
The LORD will never fail. Thus it is joy
To walk the path of sorrow for a time.
The surest hope, none ever can destroy.
No valley deep can halt the upward climb.
Your love holds fast despite what eyes can see,
Thus sight always defers to faith in thee.
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He knows that you are weary.
He hears each cry and query of his own.
The battered and the bleary
Are blessed. They will behold their father’s throne.
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I know that he is good but do not know
What form his goodness in this time will take.
My sight is bound by barriers below.
I cannot feel the healing in the break.
Bear up, my soul. Remember all the ways
He proved his faithfulness in ev’ry test.
You do not need to see beyond the haze
In order to partake in perfect rest.
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Be still, and still be creature.
He still knows ev’ry feature of your soul.
Time is a trying teacher,
But tender is the one still in control.
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