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With my voice I cry out,
I cry out to the Lord;
My mind is full of doubt,
Feels like He has ignored.
For with my voice I plea,
For His mercy and grace;
I am on bended knee,
For His comfort embrace.
I pour out my complaint,
Telling of my trouble;
Feeling as in restraint,
Buried under rubble.
My spirit faints within,
Because He knows my way;
I became deep in sin,
For I had gone astray.
Where I walk on the path,
There is a hidden snare;
Prepared to cause such wrath,
That becomes a nightmare.
Look to the right and see,
There is none to behold;
Who takes notice of me,
No one that has consoled.
No refuge to remain,
No one cares for my soul;
I am wet from the rain,
Pouring out of control.
I cry out to the Lord,
For He is my refuge;
Having such a discord,
I drown in this deluge.
My portion in the land,
The land of the living;
To follow His command,
Pleading His forgiving.
I am brought very low,
Persecutors are strong;
I have a need to know,
Just where I have gone wrong.
Bring my soul out from jail,
So, I may praise His name;
Let His mercy prevail,
Bountifully proclaim.
Copyright © 2019 Richard Newton Sherrer
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My Refuge
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