What is this ache that plagues me,
That draws me to the Cross,
That finds no solace anywhere,
That burns like love that's lost?
It tears, it flays, it shreds my bones,
It leaves me nothing left
It bids me sit in darkness
Beneath Your bleeding breast.
There is no comfort anymore,
Nowhere to salve the wound;
Just groaning, longing emptiness,
A dark and lonesome tomb.
Yet here I'll stay, an inky hope
Pervasive as the night
Cocooning me in sorrow
While promising new life.
