All hope was lost when I was alone,
I cried a prayer that reached the throne.

Addicted to tears shaped like the cross,
I wept aloud and found that which I lost.

Like a baby without a breast
I was hungry and starved, I needed to rest.

Weak without food I could barely see,
that The King had prepared a feast right before me.

Bestowed a place at his table,
I found grace that was fatal.

"Eat and drink and be joyful,
by faith my hope is bountiful."

When Jesus made me cry,
I knew, that for me he had to die.