Give me not up, O God,
my heart is slow to believe,
my eyes have seen too much
of pain, of a jaded world
and I so quick to judge.

Forgive, O Lord, and pardon
my rooted unbelief,
I fear the Surgeon’s knife
to drain my dying soul
drowning in bitter distrust.

But here I am, O Maker,
Restorer — in me create
anew — before I change
my mind, a fickle child
who wants — Yes! No! — not wanting.

Dear Father, hush my heart,
quiet my raging fears,
soothe my fevered brow,
put troubled mind at rest,
give unperturbable peace.