Bruised, broken, bedraggled, trapped and slowly dying,
little sheep abandoned, lost and helpless, crying,
And everything I know you to be,
pure love, compassion, touching me.
Lord there are men who bear your name
who seem to play a different game.
They damage tender struggling souls
underground they go, like moles.
Father I will go for you
and through the debris search
and shine your light into the dark
until it finds a hurting heart.
Use me as a witness of your
peace that transcends understanding,
Guide them to the narrow winding path
that leads to the Shepherds gate.
A hillside of sacrifice, redemption and grace.
Protect the lambs from the pit and the mud,
beast, famine, fire and flood.
Until one day they will surely find,
There is no grass greener,
than that which is thine.
Talitha Hills
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