Borrowed Words

From a newborn’s cry to an aged one’s cough

From the dirt on the ground to the moon in its loft

In the times when the cup of my joy is full

And in times of sorrow, when my heart is left dull

In the way that the sun dries up the ground

In the way that the wind carries the crickets’ sound

From the moment You said, “Let’s make man in Our image”

To the birth of the very last one of Your elect lineage

From the darkest depths of the open sea

To the tiny, pumping muscle inside of me

Your glory is in all and will be revealed

On the day that the skies are no longer sealed

All this is Yours and is to be desired

All previous, cheap longings have long since retired

My heart and my soul yearn for Your peace

For Your mighty hand to work; the battle over flesh to cease

To be perfect and flawless there in Your presence

To be consumed and love drunk by Your sweet essence

My King, my Lover, the Maker of days,

If only I could offer up some kind of praise

But You see, these words aren’t even my own

Every breath and thought I have come from You alone

So Lord, with these borrowed words I’ll offer You

A heart that needed You to make it new