The path to healing forks too many times,
the road to contentment is hard to align
Out of the anguish, the quiet voice is mesmerizing.
Great God, Jehovah sympathizing.
Manifold is misery, symbiotic history of trials.
Soon a yard turns into miles, a day becomes a year.
No path set before me presents itself
as clear, confusion without peer.
The cudgel of forlorn dreams hits me square and final.
Restoring the locust years.
What you cannot do for yourself,
there is One who is able
to restore the years the locust ate.
When sorrow has its grip on you,
giving you no reason to submit to any other.
Manifold is misery, symbiotic history of trials.
Soon a yard turns into miles, a day becomes a year.
No path set before me presents itself
as clear, confusion without peer.
The cudgel of forlorn dreams hits me square and final.
Restoring the locust years.