When i cry out, “Lord, let me die,”
please remind me, Father,
You clipped my wings that i could fly.

i don’t need legs to dance,
or hips to sway,
nor notes from my lips,
to brighten my day.

Just a song in my heart,
my Lord on my mind,
though a realm apart,
i'm not far behind.

Just a lifetime away.

When i can’t hold on any longer,
i fall on my face,
to worship my God,
in this holy place.

There is nowhere like it,
i hope you will see,
that Christ carries on,
when there's nothing left of me.

i hide in this place,
though dreary and cold,
curled up with my Master,
yes, Him from of Old.

When i don’t know what to do,
what to say or where to go,
i know i’ll stand firm,
no matter how the wind may blow.

Still, as my bones are covered with skin,
here is my soul encased therein.
My hair may turn white,
with wrinkles on my face,
but i pray with all my might,
these things will not take place.

My soul has grown wings,
because of my King,
yet covered with scales,
a bird on a string.

Sooner rather than later,
i pray to depart,
all of Him for all of me,
to be nearer His heart.

When i cry out, “Lord, let me die,”
please remind me, Father,
You clipped my wings that i could fly.

First published on Cornerstone West Los Angeles blog

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