Poetry

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The God Who Hears

From Psalm 18



I call to the Lord who is worthy of Praise
And in His Goodness I find
My God is a rock, a fortress, a shield,
And inexplicably kind.


I cried, as the cords of death held me tight,
His ears heard by faint pleading word,
As the torrents swept o’er me in passionate flood,
My voice, from His Temple, He heard.


You take all my darkness, You turn it to light,
With your help I advance ‘gainst my foe.
You keep my light burning with flame strong and bright,
Whilst you lay all my enemy low.


Who, who then is God? Who, who but the Lord?
And who is the Rock ‘cept my God?
To You and You only all Praise be outpoured
To stream like a ne’er ending flood.

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