When the days are Weary

When the days are weary
And the gray lies close
When the tranquility is quiet sorrow
And the mountain view is of longing

When the days are weary
And twisted metal swallows beauty
When death reigns
And twisted grief swallows bright eyes

When the days are weary
And the echos bring pain
When the nobody’s face the somebody’s
And the path is darkened with light

When the days are weary
And the cry is “how long?”
Oh teach us to see the veil ripped
And to hear comfort from the thunder.

Teach us to number these weary days.
Teach us that to be crushed is to be healed.
Teach us that the whirlwind proclaims
I AM.

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