I am alien here, speaking Your language
in a foreign world of men
where flesh and souls speak other languages
compelling me to translate
all the day long.
This land, set in a different ocean,
recalls my native land so seldom,
But You, oh Lord, are lord of them both.
Ah, Lord, please still this
in my heart which beats with Yours —
for my little group so mortal,
far away, which also speaks Your Tongue
and speaks our native tongue as well —
native from a child.
For You are our Father, and Your Word
becomes native language now to me;
Your heavenly Land is my land too,
patiently waiting to be possessed
when my Time is full.
But oh my weary feet lose their way,
sometimes one on solid Earth,
the other already edging Your heavenly shore;
and I, oh Lord, dangling
between such states;
yet we live upon the Earth You made,
this very moment, in Your Time
among so many Men in mortal ignorance:
Alien to You, Lord.
Ah dear Lord: there are so many.
Show me what to do.
Bless through me from You.
The LORD… raiseth up all those that be bowed down.