by Jonathan Hunter-Kilmer
limp
lowered into Your lap now
my strength is gone
but Yours for now
will hold me where I need to be
and witness what I ought to see
the light is dim
becoming dark
but You are here
on land
my ark
a refuge
taking all who must
depend on what I do their trust
when not fulfilled by me
is Yours
and Your embrace
as grace forth pours
surrounding, filling, soaking in
the peace of bliss that blots out sin
my mortal strength is not their need
but spirit, fagged, You intercede
support and cover outstretched hands
so full away one walks who stands
in supplication
for Your touch
so mends the bone
and falls the crutch