What is this ugly world
That everyone inside
Feels the brokenness
Of every single tear that's ever cried?

With every salty pool
That overflows its bounds,
Rivers of despair
Flow down the bed that of all sorrow sounds.

The only steady ground
Is the Holy Word.
Nothing makes sense
Unless the voice of God himself is heard.

If you will only heed
The Spirit's living fire,
Sobs of joyful hope
Will be the song we sing with heaven's choir.

One  night I dreamed a strange and awful dream. I dreamed that I died and my spirit stood at heaven's gates dressed in a filthy, ragged garment. As I stepped up to the throne of God, I looked down at myself and wondered how I came to be wearing such a disreputable gown. I looked up into God's face with a smile of self-righteousness,  fully expecting (in my vanity) to hear the words "Well done, thou good and faithful servant.

Must I struggle with my pride,
My foolishness and sin?
Why do I, with angry stride
Attempt to banish Him?

Grief reigns deep within my heart,
For I have grieved my Lord –
Succumbing to the devil’s dart
And using not my sword.

I have sinned – wilt Thou forgive
Though I am weak and poor?
I cannot see how I can live
Without Thy love forevermore.

“Precious child, let go thy load.
Have faith in Me and rest.
Need thou leave my safe abode
Whilst thou art so oppressed?