Tell me that tomorrow will be okay.
Tell me that mistakes will be forgotten and all that's lost will be found while all the worries float, high, dissolved into Your sphere of seen no more.
Tell me that we're not alone, here, in this chaos full of calamities and crisises that seem to continue on and on.
You're never idle.
Your hands know no stop to the molding. Your head no touch to a pillow.
You who never sleeps and always sees, share in the suffering of your created children.
Your heart breaks by the betrayal of your race.
Your power heightens at the sight of sinful evil.
You are never idle. You never turn your grace gaze away from the affliction of your ancestory.
Your eyes see. Your ears hear and your mind plans.
I believe you never sit still yet always stir in the hearts of your people.
They are your hands and your feet and your heart. May we steward it well.
Tell me that You have a plan and tell me that it's all good in the end.
That one fine day it will all be roses and we'll sit back and roll our heads back and laugh and that those wings will fly high.
Tell me that old old story of the unseen things in heaven of you and your glory
of you and your love.