When my soul wanders through midnight, and even my prayers forget their wings, I feel a sacred hand beneath the stars—the Maker of mountains whispering my name into the dark.

My help comes from no earthly dawn, but from the One who hung the heavens like a veil of endless wonder and breathed eternity into the trembling chambers of my heart.

O God, when I have nothing left but a tear and a fading amen, be the unseen light that finds me, the ancient love that holds me, the home my weary spirit remembers.

For the hills may rise and shadows fall, but my soul knows where its refuge lies. My help comes from the Lord, the Creator of heaven and earth, and even in my darkest hour, I am never beyond His reach.

Amen

~Inspired by PS 121:2