The Divine Helper

So riddled and burdened I fall to my knees

In fear and pain, through tears I fervently offer my pleas

When I can do naught but sit and shudder

The Spirit intercedes with words I cannot utter

Moved to my core, yet no words can I speak

At such moments, the Spirit ministers to the meek

My soul soon finds rest in His hiding place

Through no power of mine, but by His grace

When we expect some spectacular sign from on high

Instead, He speaks with a still, small voice to draw us nigh

How blessed are we, who have received Him

In our weakness, He gives us strength and vim

Sin still seeks to pull us away, but it cannot hope to contend

For the Light of men defeated sin and death, hastening their end

In the Holy Spirit, we receive our inheritance

Only through Him does one give Jesus reverence

When doubt rears its head, He casts it down

And reminds me I received a righteous crown

Through no mighty or heroic works of mine

The crown I wear, was given me by one Divine