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Dec 2018
The rising tide brings peace
Healing brokenness in this place
Sweeps and swirls and doesn’t cease
There in the depths of His grace
Holding back just on the verge
My wounds are only kissed
No fears within submerge
In merely strumming mist
Long drenched by anxiety
But completely parched beneath
My failing shelter of piety
Like a fearful sword in its sheath
Now I’m discontent just to be
Held in such a mighty hand
Longing with pride to use me
But immobile at His command
Yet grace crashes at the rubble
Each rock was a feeble attempt
To build above my trouble
No carpenter to preempt
The cross a simple design
Has stood throughout the ages
So all this mess I will resign
To redeeming force that rages
Though this awesome sea I dread
It will overcome my doubt
If by tattered wood I’m led
Until life as loss I count
I’m standing in the middle
And my strength is growing
Beyond this frame so little
Here’s where the power’s flowing
Now the risen tide of peace
Rolling calmly over my face
Sweeps, swirls and will never cease
Here in the ocean of His grace
Sarah Lane
Written by
Sarah Lane  NYC
(NYC)   
458
 
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