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Lament for my Husband


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Joy Manning

 

My soul’s whispered tears rise

as scented threads woven by the years.

Morning and evening I unwind burning pleas

to spread before your all-knowing eye.

 

When will you fly to crumble granite walls,

loose the stoney cuffs that lock the hidden man?

How long must we writhe confined by boundaries,

divided in the union of our joined separate lives?

 

Alone, I tread against the current of our days,

battered by waves of unbelief’s refrain.

Yet in silence my arms embrace the stone heart

tight, and to you alone I pour out my pain.

 

When will you speak light into darkness,

you, who are Life Himself, say to the dead, “Live!”?

How long before your long arm pounds

its hammer to chisel, and carves out the secret man?

 

Yet, you alone are the Master Craftsman,

whose hands fashion our souls.

In your time, you come swiftly;

you never abandon the work you began.

 

Every tear you collect in your bottle

and your steadfast love meets my morning.

All emptiness you fill moment by moment,

my heart is still, I will watch and wait.

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Hope Henchey

Oh, Joy! What a beautiful song to your Lord that could only come from a heart that has known great longing, great pain, and great comfort from your Savior. I love the imagery of chiseling away the stony heart and calling God the Master Craftsman. What wonderful love you have for your husband, and I’m sure he knows it even if he acts otherwise. Praying this psalm with you for your husband and many others ♥️

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Lori Morrison
5 hours ago, Joy Manning said:

 

My soul’s whispered tears rise

as scented threads woven by the years.

Morning and evening I unwind burning pleas

to spread before your all-knowing eye.

 

When will you fly to crumble granite walls,

loose the stoney cuffs that lock the hidden man?

How long must we writhe confined by boundaries,

divided in the union of our joined separate lives?

 

Alone, I tread against the current of our days,

battered by waves of unbelief’s refrain.

Yet in silence my arms embrace the stone heart

tight, and to you alone I pour out my pain.

 

When will you speak light into darkness,

you, who are Life Himself, say to the dead, “Live!”?

How long before your long arm pounds

its hammer to chisel, and carves out the secret man?

 

Yet, you alone are the Master Craftsman,

whose hands fashion our souls.

In your time, you come swiftly;

you never abandon the work you began.

 

Every tear you collect in your bottle

and your steadfast love meets my morning.

All emptiness you fill moment by moment,

my heart is still, I will watch and wait.

Oh my. If painful longings can be transformed into beauty,  you have done it You are an artist like your Lord. 

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Joy Manning

Our deepest pains can be our greatest gifts. They force us to the feet of our Savior. Without this, I would never have known the sweetness His presence. Thank you all for the encouragement!

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  • 1 month later...
Joy Manning

A revision:

 

My soul’s whispered tears rise

as scented threads woven by the years

Morning and evening I unwind burning pleas

to spread before your all-knowing eye.

 

When will you fly to crumble granite walls,

loose the stoney cuffs that lock the hidden man?

How long must we writhe confined by boundaries,

divided in the union of our joined separate lives?

 

Alone, I tread against the current of our days,

battered by waves of unbelief’s refrain.

Yet in silence my arms embrace the stone heart

tight, and to you alone I pour out my pain.

 

When will you speak light into darkness,

you, who are Life Himself, say to the dead, “Live!”?

How long before your strong arm hammers

its chisel, to carve out the secret man?

 

Yet, you alone are the Master Craftsman,

whose hands sculpt the curve of our souls.

In your time, you shape beauty within us;

you never abandon the work you began.

 

Every tear you collect in your bottle

and your steadfast love meets my morning.

All emptiness you fill the moment I need,

I will watch and wait, my heart is still.

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