I pray to God – right as I should, but words of prayer are dismayed or rigid. My soul is like a battle field – it’s all as if by fire singed.
My candle’s burning in the night. Why can’t I read my Book in its light? I can’t feel the prophetic word – I’m throwing off the Book, oh, Lord.
But then I feel – I’m not dumb yet – how the star’s shade along the roof is sliding! Give back to me my mournful spirit, oh, Lord to comprehend for what I’m striving.