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Testimony: Of Waking Nights
What words can pass these lips to tell the tale? What bitter whisper?
Men and angels all speak in their tongues, but none can avail me now.
Holy Spirit, my Muse, grant to me the impossible and give me speech.
Teach me the language to tell the story, to testify of things now past.
Waking from unforgiving sleep, my heart is heavy and pants for peace.
My mind turns to the one that my prayers, offered in the dark, speak of.
The night is dark, though the stars shine, though the moons glow.
The spirit of torment, the spirit of despair is near, relentless in assault.
I feel the loneliness, the depression, like a cancer, eating away at the soul.
My gaze into the empty night brings no comfort and no rest in my waking.
A spirit of fear is now my companion and sits with me in the dark, voiceless.
There is a cry in the night, and I perceive, yet I can do nothing.
Fear tells of a possible tomorrow: a morning shrouded in a second darkness
For tomorrow, that one of my prayers may not be there.
I contemplate that which, in my sight, may come. Dreading the morning.
Sleep brings no peace, for I am plagued by that fear and nightmares.
Yet in my doubt, I do lift up my heart and bring this burden to His throne.
There I sit at His feet and cry out for mercy and invoke intercession.
I pray that Grace would bring us through the night and into a new day;
That we would not taste bitter hopelessness and defeat before our time;
And one day we will praise the Sustainer for His love for our wretched souls.
