It starts with a whisper,
God’s still small voice.
But, busyness, busyness always abounds,
’till busyness, busyness drowns out the sound.
It starts with a piercing,
My conscience is seared.
Still, no time for the pain.
And, no time for the sorrow.
Surely, there’ll be time tomorrow. Tomorrow.
It starts with a rumble,
Off some beaten shore.
Fool of all fools, I still choose to ignore.
It starts with the thunder, the sound’s closer now.
Hail! Lightning, flash down to the ground!
Where can I hide? Oh, where can I hide?
Never to be found. No, never to be found.
It starts with a SHOUT! God’s holy NOW!
Finally, I’m stilled and humbly I bow.
Truthfully? My heart and my soul are weary.
So, no more retreat, Lord. No more retreat.
Still I have to wonder. Lord? Why, oh, why,
did it take You
so long
to finally
speak?
