My God walks on
stark plains, cloud cover
and meets me face–down in the earth
where I hope for a flood; I wish
to let go and go
but my God does not release, no.
All things run with Him, and I must
find a way to keep pace.
I have sank down for days within days without end,
but the least of us follow and follow. He lends
His strength to those who dispirited, bend
in the place of His prints—yes,
All things tread with Him,
even we, with the ground to our lips.