Lord, save me. Gripping sorrow
Blinds me. I stumble pathless, lost,
Bewildered, buffeted, storm-tossed.
Mother Mary, carve some hollow for
My aching heart, so I can see.
Wrung, remorseful, aching,
Blame eats my bones--where find you, Lord,
Within this deep’ning wound?
Mother Mary, carve some hollow for
My aching heart, so I can heal.
I lie upon a knife of my own making,
Etched by accusation.
My only hope your cross.
Mother Mary, carve some hollow for
My aching heart, so I can trust.
Carve the hollow where I hide
within His Heart.
He heals us by his wounds.
Mother Mary, Be my companion
In the dark, until the dead arise
And empty be the tomb.