Oh, Lord, it rends my soul to give
this wish--desire--full away,
Not clinging to a piece of hope;
A piece that says, 'Perhaps someday...'
For now the thing--so frightening clear--
Is to release it dark and full
and keep no sliver-thought of me,
though giving leaves a gaping hole.
Desire--oh, how sharp the spears
of joy that haunt this favorite dream.
But am I Your's enough to push
this treasure toward Your altar's gleam?
The thund'ring toss of straining mind.
The clashing knowledge: this is right.
The heart's own cry: 'Oh, please, not yet!'
The beckon of Your fire bright.
No looking back, no holding on,
I watch my treasure dance in flame.
And then I feel inside my soul
the power of Your tender Name.
I've given what was dearest mine
but just before the wound bleeds free
You staunch the flow and catch my heart
and with Your Lover's arms hold me.
What looks as ash is only just
the dust from which Your plans arise
And though I feel the burning here
I see the mercy in Your eyes.