Restore Me
My God, You gave me Solomon’s own mind
A well of truth, so deep, so rich, refined.
Yet waves of war have beat upon my shore,
With wounds that shake me to my very core.
They come with snares—emotions torn and tried,
With whispered lies that mock and pierce my pride.
They touch my flesh, they crowd my weary sleep,
And still You watch, while I’m too weak to weep.
I know You, Lord—intimately, I’ve prayed,
But now it seems Your light has turned to shade.
Am I a pawn within some holy game,
A vessel marked with sorrow, shame, and blame?
They call me wicked, false, and yet I bleed—
These wounds bear witness to my silent need.
I feel defeated, torn by inward strife,
O God of mercy, breathe into my life.
Restore the heart that once burned pure with fire,
Revive the hope that sin would now expire.
Cure every thirst that draws me from Your side,
And heal this soul that’s wayward, double-eyed.
My hands are shaking, yet they reach for You,
Deliver me from all I think and do.
Addiction chains me, shame and guilt conspire—
But You, O Lord, are still my one desire.
So lift me, cleanse me, cast out every fear,
And let Your Spirit draw and keep me near.
Though crushed and low, I know that You still reign—
My God, my healer—bind and break these chains.
Copyright © Dana Smith | Year Posted 2025
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