Why do I carry on,
as if my father did not own,
The cattle on a thousand hills
Or the kingdoms of this world

As if the Son, just upped and left:
Or his life was cut short,
His work unfinished;
And His own without help(er).

As if He did not promise,
that His departure was my good
because he was sending
Comfort and strength
The world had not seen

And why do I stand aside,
Though bought of blood
casting furtive glances towards the throne,
as if the veil survived the cross,
as if His invitation had qualification,
Or my access was conditional.

And why do I not always see,
with the clarity of this moment?
El-shaddai, all-sufficient;
I have made you too small in my eyes,
Oh Lord forgive me.