in the chill of night rests a longing
and my soul cries out to one
who is
and then though the path is narrow
and the briars and thorns threaten
to tear my clothes and rip my skin
i fear not
and look ahead to those green pastures
and quiet waters by the fruited trees
the forever presence of my Lord
even now shimmers the same as i kneel
and consider what it is
to be wholly at rest in him