You never leave, You are before, behind,
And all through me.
When You hold me in the hollow of your hand,
How can anything go wrong?
When I walk the cliff-edge of earthly desire,
Your staff is a verdant hedge against my falling.
When I insist on being wrong, just for the thrill of it,
Your rope tightens and I feel
The sharp tug of your disappointment.
Surely goodness and mercy are spread out before me
Like a carpet of wild flowers,
And you will shepherd me home
In spite of my meanderings,
Ultimately You have faith in me,
Your goat of awkward dimensions.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem