When I grow tired of living,
When I am hurt from loving,
Lord Jesus, I will climb up the stairs
and sit with You, sit at Your feet,
where the air is cool and where
I can feel the strength and stability
of Your royal leg as I lean
my back up against it.
Your strength will penetrate and uphold,
cracking away the defense,
melting the offence.
Then, when I have been replenished,
You will invite me to your Divine
Tree House, where we will play
like kids on a summer's afternoon
and laugh until our bellies hurt.
I'm feeling better already.