Whenever I cry, He hears me
Whenever I fall, He picks me up
Whenever I roam, He steers me
And when I become thirsty
He offers me His cup.
My pain may make me weary
Heartaches may make me sad
But, with my hand in My Father's Hand
He always makes me glad.
Daddys may have to leave us
And aren't always there to teach
But Our Father, with all of His love
Is never out of reach.
My hand is in my Father's
It's there where it belongs
I walk along the pathway beside Him
And my heart sings
As He makes me feel secure and strong.
Sandra Lewis Pringle © 2009
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