Lord could it be true that there are few that know you, that there are many who are called but few who are chosen?
And what of me? You know me, my struggles, sin and shame, of weakness and pain you are aware, and familiar. I have hidden and crawled into a shell, a small abode with little light Lord you know, a small place lonely and somewhat sad but quiet.
Be still and know the Bible says, be still and know! Lord I do know. I do know that I need thee every hour, that every breath is given by you. That there is truth in this wicked world, where men and women swear there are no absolutes, demanding thus to be the only absolute!
Where killers mount up to the heavens daily, where for many years like Dragons they spew and emit… Poisons from the wings and tails to kill all that dwell below, as they empty the bowels of their wicked cargo they come down to earth again and lie in wait for another mission another chance to fly taking rest in their own toxic cloud eating and breathing their poisons, dying the death of their own victims.
Why should I hide?
Why should I not cry aloud?
Men are evil and love to have it so!