My bridegroom lifts me up
from the world’s dark, said
Sister Clare, He holds me fast
against the world’s clutches,
His touch heals my deepest
wounds, my many failures.

His eyes search me and see
me as I am; there is no pretence
in His presence, no maybe
in His words. He lifts away
from the false prophets and
lying religions, He shows me
His love in a thousand ways,
His love has no conditions, no
limitations, no world’s whims.

He calls me out of darkness
with the slightest word, none
is worthy of Him, none seek
Him as they ought. He seeks
me when I am lost, finds me
when I cannot see beyond
the narrowness of the me,
am blind to the reality of being,
too lost at times to the world's
sad ways. He will lift me up in
the Last Days; will save from
drowning in my deep depressions,
my eyes open to the brightness
of His face. I bathe in His love
and grace, hear His call even
when the noise of the world is
at its loudest beat, I shall know
His love, feel His tender touch,
even when I am sunk in darkness
and the wild world’s too much.