He'll take the helm and guide me through
The storms besieging my soul;
When doubt leads to indecisiveness
He'll step in and take control

He'll be the wind beneath my wings,
Saving me from swift descent;
He'll intervene when he perceives
A choice that I might repent

He'll know my strengths and weaknesses,
For he will have forged the key
That permits entry to my heart,
Revealing each mystery

Before my cup of hope is drained
He'll refill it to the brim;
He'll tranquilize my restlessness
With poetry, or a hymn

But cherished most will be his love
That's searching relentlessly
For a heart to combine with his
In flawless harmony.
This is the man I've yet to meet . . .
These are the things yet to be