We're wandering at times, it seems so anyways,
drowning on a wet string are countless days,
which reach into the past, and we're afraid of the fear
that tomorrow might bring an unknown tier
the heights of which are insurmountable by knowledge
because the doubts that haunt us cannot assuage the bridge
the to city of God.
If we were with Thomas, would confidence rule?
On gaping wounds touching, an assurance to fuel?
A change to a wild, running escape from despair
flowing like a cape thrust out of the lair
a shouting mission for life will we fare?
Lord help us, because we're walking by faith on this lighted path
but there's darkness and under our feet, broken glass
We grope for assurance, but like sticks in the marsh
we're sinking, Lord, we're sinking....
You know, at times, your silence seems harsh,
and, from somewhere a sinister face comes along
with snarls and a pride with eyes that are garish
Now magnified are the doubts in our throng
As we prod along, with repentant friend Thomas
grant us O Lord, the certainty of faith
For you promised that wholly upon us
when we see not yet believe, we are blessed.