LORD, do not ignore this quiet cry,
this spittle-bubble cry to you.
In my weakness, in my tiredness, from my empty well,
I pour out what little I have toward you.

My murmur is soaked up as it hits the ground,
my words evaporate before they are fully formed,
but before my knees hit the ground
you reach down and hold me.

You smile at my clumsy song,
you reach out and lift me
and with gentle patience you pour your warm milk into my emptiness
and you fill me with your loving kindness.

As I drink in your shadow, as I fill my belly, I find strength and I rise
like a new born calf, like a foal still finding her feet
I stand unsteady, but with my eyes fastened onto you,

I follow you into green pasture,
I walk in your wake and after each few steps you wait
and I see a mother’s pleasure in your eyes on me.

The LORD is a patient mother
the LORD offers the milk of loving kindness to her young
and walks with them into fresh pasture.