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Your only friend is darkness? Heman the Ezrahite.

That's not how to end your psalm, with ache of lonely soul, 
awake to darkness fall each day, to deepest darkest hole 
as morning clears the dark away.

Yet you persist, Heman, to have your say,
to steel your darkened heart to pray.

Suffered from your youth, and always close to death ?

Spare your breath Heman, impugn your God no more. 
The reason why your eyes are dim with grief, don't lay that at his door. 
He has not acted as you say, a thief of neighbour and of friend, 
though that is your belief.

And though your eyes are rarely dry, 
to Him you still complain, and plead your plaintiff's cry.

Rejected? He hides from you His face, you said?

His wrath sweeps over you with terror and despair, 
to surround you like a flood, engulf you  in the lowest pit 
and darkness that you dread.

Yet still you raise your hands to Him, 
your outstretched hands are spread.

And where did this all end, Heman?

Grace brought you seer to David's throne 
leading worship and rejoicing,
Fourteen sons, three daughter's grace your home,
and you played your gifted part, 
as King danced with joy and might before God's homing ark.

Your dreadful psalm of deep despair is not for you Herman, 
but tells us that our God's aware of how men speak in grief.
Of how their thoughts in darkest places challenge divine grace.
Yet He holds them as they struggle there, though trials be not brief,
He sustains their glimmered faith.

The one who cried, My God My God, why have you forsaken me?' 
was not forsaking you, Herman, but hanging on that cross-barred tree, 
love's mercy gift for you, Heman, pinned to that mercy tree, 
love's mercy given free, Heman, love's mercy set you free.

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