1 Black the cloud and bleak the feeling;
nothing, no-one lifts the pain.
Each new day repeats the cycle:
hope awakes, then dies again.

2 Bright God's world and bold the colours,
sweet the loves that stir the heart.
But these joys disperse, distorted,
mind and body torn apart.

3 Not the warmth of home or family
nor the firmest faith in God
can outweigh the heavy blackness,
life's intolerable load.

4 Reason with unreason tangles;
voices rise and fall and plead.
Treatment, tablets, prayer for healing:
will these steps to safety lead?

5 God, to you we trust a story
we seem powerless to change.
Here we strain to see Love's foothills;
yonder lies the mountain range.


David Mowbray
© David Mowbray, admin. The Jubilate Group
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