A little touch of magic, the broken, soon made whole,
The old shall find a second wind, refreshed, their weary soul.
Then all, a restful silence, restored, what time had stole,
For great, His gifts and mercy, with praises, now extol.
How tender is His mercy, its gift of sun and rain,
To warm and to refresh, hearts burdened and in pain.
With gentle strength and kisses, songs, their sweet refrain,
Revive the low and weary, to live and love again.
On angel’s wings, the lighted way,
Shimmering path, its gentle sway.
Leading, guiding, lest hope astray,
To mercy’s home, no burdens weigh.
Behold me in my nakedness, darkness, plain to see,
Wrong and sin, misgivings, none are hid from Thee.
Flickering in the trying wind, quick, then set me free,
Extinct this lowly flame of mine, now to Your mercy flee.
Peering through the past, a vision, crystal clear,
How the tempest riding, His hand did surely steer.
Tender mercies shine, those nights that teemed with tears,
Dawn, its hour rising, new hope born free of fear.
Wrath of nations rising, grave, the war drums pound,
Brother against brother, the earth in red blood drowns.
Stir us from this madness! Angels, your trumpets sound,
Arouse the seeds of mercy, see the valiant fall to ground.
This awful drought, its absent rain,
Brief respite, see, His anger wane.
Alas this gift of showers, disdain,
Act of mercy, now turned to bane.