The Query Psalm

When you came to me in the wasted land I was at the door of death,
And you stooped low and, face to face, breathed on me your breath,
But I was so utterly weary I didn’t even know what you were doing,
So I heard the sound of your voice as you lifted me from the ground,
Telling me all would be alright as you walked on through the night;
And I could scarcely comprehend, but you did not reprimand me;
We only travelled on and then I only remember awakening one day,
Lying in green pastures with the serene stream gurgling nearby me,
And you were there, so near and dear, tenderly tending my wounds,
And later I was able to eat and drink and stand on my very own feet,
And you smiled wide, embraced me, and I could feel your heart beat;
Then I looked around in awe as I saw hundreds and thousands here,
Each of them dear to your heart, my Beloved, but what of me now?
You’ve not left me bereft of your love, but is there something more?
You know that I adore you more than any other, but is there more?
No, I am not abused or misused by your hand, but is there yet more?
Oh! I see the sand in the distance and ask, ‘Am I part of your band?’
Yes, I see the sand in the distance and ask, ‘Am I part of your band?’
Ah! There must be some reason that I will know in due season . . .
Because you came and found me, not I you, and you redeemed me;
Yes, when I was at death’s door, you breathed on me your breath . . .
Of Life


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