All-present God who fills all things
beyond what they can bear
and spans the spaces in between,
now fill the empty here.
You who sustain us, give us food;
our hungry stomachs fill.
You made us and you called us good:
Now hold us in your will.
For you do not desire the death
of anything you made;
then fill our bodies with your breath
and still come to our aid.
Fill every darkened cell with light
and every shade with rest;
fill every sprirt with delight
to hear you called them blest.
Come fill us in our every need
as you fill every world
in every spinning galaxy
across the sky unfurled.
You made us hollow, hungry hearts:
Now all your mercies pour
and overflow all that we are.
Fill all of us, O Lord.
I begged for rescue from the flood:
You heard and drew me out,
and when I knew that you were good,
you plunged me into drought.
And when I begged for flowing streams
to quench my thirsting soul,
you opened floodgates in the deep
and let the billows roll.
Yet in the depths or in the sands,
in daylight or the dark,
I know that I am in your hands,
and you are in my heart.
When waters rise to reach my lips
and steal away my breath,
then send a fish or send a ship
or walk to me yourself.
And when the desert stretches on,
come with me as my guide,
a tow'r of cloud the whole day long,
a tow'r of flame by night.
Then in the desert or the depths,
at midnight or at noon,
through every length and height and breadth,
I walk beside my groom.
Brooklyn Museum – Saint Peter Walks on the Sea (Saint Pierre marche sur la mer) By James Tissot – Online Collection of Brooklyn Museum; Photo: Brooklyn Museum, 2007, 00.159.140_PS2.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10195992
Lord, set me high upon the rock,
too high for me to reach,
where overhead the vultures flock,
and jackals underneath.
Yet in the shadows here I rest;
dust devils touch me not.
An infant at a mother's breast
am I upon your rock.
I called you, and you heard my cry,
when I was lost in fear.
You came to me in dead of night
and quickly drew me near
that I might rest beside my God
and hide beneath your wings.
Now I will stay upon your rock,
your name forever sing.
Then let fear come upon me now;
let enemies draw night:
I still will pay my every vow
to you, who hears my cry.
Let death itself creep underneath
the shadow of your wing,
it will but join me here in peace
and with my spirit sing.
Have pity on me, O my God;
have pity, God, I pray,
for evils trample on my heart
and fill my mind each day.
Relentlessly they press me, Lord,
and put my hopes to rout,
that at their feet now I have poured
more tears than I can count.
Yet though my tears are numberless,
you count them as the stars
and gather them into the flask
where you keep all our scars.
My days and nights are filled with fear:
Fill them still more with trust,
and if I cannot feel you near,
yet meet me in the dust.
Oh, come, take hold of both my hands
and fill them with your strength,
so I may fight—or merely stand—
beneath the blows that rain.
But one by one shall they turn back:
They see you here and flee,
and when you come to fill my lack,
what can they do to me?
So you will rescue me from death
and stand with me in strife.
You fill my body with your breath
here in the land of life.
As an infant cries for comfort,
trusting us for all it needs,
so we cry to you in mourning,
trusting in the God who sees.
We lift up our hands in worship,
lift the voice in us that pleads:
Come, O Lord, and fill our spirits
with the love that holds and feeds.
As a child brings all its wanting,
fearing not to make demands,
so we bring you all our longing,
all we look for at your hands.
So we learn to call you “Father”
when you love to us descends;
we are all your sons and daughters,
and we all on you depend.
As your children, we are calling
for your mercy on us, Lord:
In our trying and our falling,
help us walk still heavenward.
Trusting all we are receiving,
for your gifts still fill the world,
may we all accept your kingdom
as your children, loving God.
You have led me through the desert;
you have held me through the years.
Every step, you have been present;
when I sought you, ever near.
When I strayed, you still were faithful;
when I fell, you, too, sank down,
not in wrath and not in failure,
but to lift me from the ground.
Lead me ever in your mercy,
through the day and through the dark.
Through my hunger and my thirsting,
show me yet your guiding spark.
If I never see your glory,
never reach the promised land,
if all other go before me,
still you have me in your hand.
When you lead me to the Jordan,
when you roll the river back,
give me courage for the journey
as you've given all I lack.
Let me trust again your goodness
and the wonders you have shown
still to bring me to the fullness
of the mercy I have known.
To the tune PLEADING SAVIOR (“Sing of Mary, pure and lowly”):
See my heart, confused and groping—
Lord, look down to earth and see—
lost and blind, but trusting, hoping,
you will help my unbelief.
If my eyes should never open,
if the morning light should flee,
if I am no more than broken,
yet come walk the night with me.
Lord, I do not know the meadow
where you promise me your rest,
yet I long to find the shadow
held between your wing and breast.
Here I walk by hint and echo
to an end I have not guessed.
Come and guide me, heaven's arrow,
to the places you have blessed.
Take me by the hand and lead me,
by the roads I cannot find,
gentle when my fears deceive me,
patient when I fall behind.
With each day, once more receive me;
each step, one more chain unbind.
With the bread of heaven, feed me,
savior, shepherd ever kind.
Inspired by Good Shepherd Sunday falling in the middle of everything still being difficult. Maybe wouldn’t work for actually singing during Mass on Good Shepherd Sunday, but in the right circumstances, it could. More appropriate for difficult times or night prayer. To the tune HEINLEIN (“From the Depths We Cry to Thee”):
Shepherd of my weary soul,
see me safely through the night.
Far away from safety's fold,
still I seek your comfort bright.
Shepherd, give me eyes to see
stars, though light cannot be found,
signs that show you're leading me,
though my fears yet here abound.
Give me ears to hear your voice
calling me throughout the night,
courage for each darkened choice—
let me hear and choose aright!
Though my heart is worn and cold,
kindle me with your bright spark.
Guide my steps on ways untold,
though I walk them in the dark.
Lord, I cannot see your face;
let me sightless be content,
blindly groping through your grace
still to follow where you went.
If the sun should never rise,
let me follow ever on,
thankful that you made my eyes
though they may not see the dawn.
Kate Bluett 