Great Spirit, I'm too tired to offer prayer,
too worn to ask for grace or strength divine,
so I must trust that You will still be there.

I speak far less; some think that I don't care,
it's more that I cannot abide to whine.
Great Spirit, I'm too tired to offer prayer.

My friends have precious little left to share,
no muttered reassurance all is fine,
so I must trust that You will still be there.

I sit at night beside her empty chair
with sleepless memories to fill my mind.
Great Spirit, I'm too tired to offer prayer.

Her footsteps echoes hanging in thin air
remind me of lost chances and lost time,
so I must trust that You will still be there.

My silence does not leave me unaware;
what words are left when one is left behind?
Great Spirit, I'm too tired to offer prayer,
so I must trust that You will still be there.