The storms are raging the winds are high,
Like a cyclone bearing down,
The winds pick me up, and toss me about,
to go crashing back to the ground
I sit up at night alone in my pain,
as the winds gets stronger and stronger,
I hold on tight, with knuckles all white
praying it won't last much longer.
There is life to live things left undone
But this warden of pain keeps me prisoner
For in this gale I can not stand
With weakness my limbs violently quiver
Inside this dervish while spinning around
I cry out with bated breath hoping
Within my soul my heart my mind
Grabbing reaching, groping
In this night with Dim of eye
Weak as a reed I wander
Then focusing out an anchor I see
There in the distant yonder
Rising up I boldly stand
Ignoring the screams of my torture
Reaching out I call to Him
For he is the anchor of my future
I bundle up the pain the doubt
The nights spent alone with grieving
Windblown and sore I toss them out
Hoping wishing believing
He reaches for me and raises me up
Taking the torment the pain
He anchors me as the gale force dies
And His Comfort begins to Reign!
