Father, Father, help me Father
Never have I known a man
Who could take me as his daughter
Wrap my failures in his plan
Who could see such holy beauty
In a street child beat and worn
Who could call me his Creation
When the threads of hope are torn.
Father, Father, help me Father
My songs ask to see your face
My songs sing about your goodness
My songs praise your gift of grace
They are words when death draws nearer
They are words when hope’s shot through
They are words when I can’t hear
And ask “why?” is all I can do.
Father, Father, help me Father
I want to sleep for days or years
Is it true you have a bottle
Filled with my frenetic tears?
Is it true you love me strongly
Even though my love is small?
Is it true you’ll read this verse
And it won’t change your love at all?
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