When my heart weeps sore to feel its loss,
I gaze on You
I cannot see, my vision blurred
But trust in You, by faith bestirred.

I lift my hand, in batt’ring storm
To touch Your Hand
The giving Hand, the taking Hand;
Now gentle One, the healing Hand.

I cannot claim to understand,
But honor You,
For You are God, the Sovereign One
Beyond Your thoughts, are simply none.

And in that faith You gave within,
I believe You,
I glimpse You; pure joy wells upward
To grasp through pain, a loving Lord.

-for Isaac’s mother, whose faith is beautiful-