"Where is He?"

Life is vacant, life is spent, sadness knows to pay its rent.
Dreams fulfilled and gone by scope, empty now beyond all hope.
Love is void , no one to care, no one to prune away the tares.
Sitting still, darkness looms, fills the empty room.

Where is He, who knows my name.

To lift this heart, from pouring rain.
And turn its eyes, to fields of grain.
He who hears, the sparrows pain.
He who sits in hallowed halls, does he care that I do fall.

Where is He, who knows my name.

Will he leave me spirit spent, to gather dust and balls of lent.
To mouth so dry and hungered soul, left to die upon the soil.
Does he see the plight I stand, will he lift a helping hand.

Where is He, who knows my name.

Where is He, who made my frame.

@ D. Bradley

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