Prod me with Your loving hands
Stir me from my deep impasse
I long to flee this stagnant rut
My soul, my prison, deadened lot
Which end is just to taste Your wrath
So set me on the narrow path
Thorns and thistles may line this road
But it leads me to the mutual abode.
Lift me up with Your mighty hand
Above this frenzied earthly land
Set me on the mount to see
What the world can offer me
Till I see the vanity from on high
And earthly desires I bid goodbye
And set my eyes on You.
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