For Thy Mercy ... Come, gentle rustling wind of eve, Whose fragrance longingly I breathe To secrets learn of my return; 'Tis for thy mercy that I yearn. This plaintive cry in silence blooms, Thine ancient wisdom's guide unto An heirloom blessed from my birth Thy Kingdom's gateway from the earth. The eve' till morn' I can but long And count the hours with plaintive song. Tell me Keeper, art Thou near, Thou only who my fate can steer? They think me happy who can't see This heart in woeful agony; They think that I contented rest, Among the concourse of the blessed. But Thou must know how burns my soul, How every breath a fiery coal That feeds bereavement in my breast And makes more arduous my quest. Each time I cast this form away Thou dost return it in the day. Each night I lay this body down And still return to darkness bound. I can't ascend with such a weight, And can't return to this estate; In neither world may I repose And yet I know where aether flows. I see the stream return to Thee; Through longing tears I plainly see I weep my wretched life away 'Till naught remains of selfish sway. Come gentle rustling wind of eve' Thy fragrance how I long to breathe To secrets learn of my return; 'Tis for Thy mercy that I yearn. back home next

Copyright 1997, Kim Bowers; All rights reserved

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