Packing My Things and Moving Into the Shelter of the Most High

You laid down the boards of refuge,

your shelter hid its price.

And the Lord is good and gracious,

so I thought your gift was His.

Then the dark grew loud with clawing,

gnawing my peace away.

Your provision left me freezing,

like bricks below your feet. 

When the air grew thick and rotten, 

it bled into my lungs.

But you gazed upon my torment,

scoffed at my every plea. 

Every night my bare bones withered,

deeper into decay. 

And your rage prowled in the shadows,

You thought I’d bow my knee.

Oh Lord, O Lord,

let him see

let him see 

You fight for me

You don’t sleep

You never cease

High and Almighty. 

O Lord, O Lord,

have mercy 

have mercy 

upon the thief 

he who speaks

those vain decrees,

false authority.

O Lord, O Lord,

I am free

I am free

You promised me

I don’t need 

the world’s retreat

Your presence shelters me. 

Oh Lord, Oh Lord,

You gave me

You gave me

the strength to leave 

and believe 

it’s not for me,

that house of disease.

When you tempt me with your fortress, 

in Christ I will abide. 

If the Lord did not build the house,

I will not live inside. 

If you crown yourself as master,

and claim me as your own,

then the Lord might just rebuke you.

You’ll reap what you have sown. 

When your blackened walls bred vermin,

I tried to wash them clean.

When your mold consumed my essence, 

I bore it underneath. 

Even still you think I owe you?

Did your blood cleanse my cry?

Only Christ deserves my reverence.

Your throne is built on lies.