Behold how many troubles, Lord, my soul has had to bear
I feel the pangs of death draw near, it leads me to despair.
“It is too late,” I hear them say, “she’s on the brink of death”
As good as dead, I’m all alone and wait my final breath.
O God, this sickness is from You, You’ve laid me in this pit
I lay in darkness ‘neath Your wrath, afflictions You permit.
Even my friends abandoned me, they cannot bear to see
Shut up alone I waste away and lift my hands to Thee.
I’ve called upon You every day, O Lord when will You save?
What praise or glory can You get once I am in the grave?
Do dead perceive Your wondrous works or spirits rise to praise?
Can one declare Your faithfulness who in Abaddon lays?
Time and again I’ve cried for help, You’ve heard my morning prayer
Why do You hide Your face from me, reject, refuse to care?
E’en from my youth I’ve suffered thus, terrors like waters flow
You’ve caused my loved ones to depart, darkness is all I know.
© 2014 J Dan Small