Longing

As I survey the life that has passed,
And beckon the future that awaits,
All worldly treasures, trappings and triumphs,
Remind now; this is not what I was made for,
The heart's been left with this divine ache,
Fashioned and formed as an artery of old by the good great Lord.
Pulsating time and again, stirring the holy pining.

Mundane hours of existence go by,
The twitch of pain surges into longing,
For His presence and for secrets of His heart,
Longing so much to be in a better place
Far more pleasant and beautiful than these dry parched lands.
Where Creator Father rules and resides,
His light illuminates the very aching heart so wild.

Tragedies and life's lowest pits,
Conflagrating the search and longing as a forest fire,
That stops at nothing, turning where the wind takes it,
Knowing, tranquility and rest is almost near,
The sweet desire to quench the thirsty soul,
In Him everything then will be still, Lifter of every sorrow,
Bridegroom of heaven, the bride awaits your rescue.

In life's electrifying moments of earthly glory,
The anguish annoyance lingers again, oh this eternal longing
To be home with the maker of this heart,
Sitting on His lap and reveling in His delight
Ever yearning to leave this earthly tent
But yet living with this longing, the age-old aching
Will only end in His presence when we meet face to face.