When all the world keeps racing around;
How can I be slow?
When all around me feels tied down;
How can I be free?
How can I ask that one would listen?
When sorrow is of all I speak?
But you're right, sometimes even listeners
Shoulders to cry on seek.
I hear the wonder in his voice of concern and care.
I hear the sadness and despair for a friend no longer near.
I hear the shadow of a past engraved in stone.
And yet when I speak, my voice echoes, I stand alone.
The pits of despair shall not keep me down.
I will rise above.
For one leads me through life's fears,
It's His hand, I hold.