Knocking Again

My Father, it’s me, knocking hard on your door.
You know what I want, ’cause I’ve been here before.

My Father, it’s me, knocking hard on your door.
You know what I want, ’cause I’ve been here before.
I’m asking again, and I don’t plan to cease.
Until I am blessed, I won’t leave You in peace.

It’s not that I’m worthy that makes me so bold,
But that I believe all the things I’ve been told
Of You and the Your promise to give and to bless
The poor man who calls unto You in distress.

Though oft disappointed, I’m able to cope;
Exceeding great promises cause me to hope,
And keep me returning to beg with this plea:
Throw open the windows of heaven for me!

It’s not on my lust that I want to expend
The spiritual blessings I beg You to send.
Though self may be mingled in all that I do,
My heart is committed to honoring You.

For Christ is my life, and to die would be gain,
But I in the land of the living remain,
And here I would faint if I didn’t believe
That we on the earth may Your goodness receive.

May 15, 2009

Nita Brainard