A Strange Kind of Weakness

I have a strange kind of weakness when I rest in Your arms,

A vulnerability, a freedom, I have alone with You.

There I admit exactly what I am

And You listen to the gore of the truth.

I have a strange kind of peace when I rest in Your arms

Which grabs me from before, behind, inside.

It is the peace of forgiveness, the peace of the clean,

That at long last there is nothing more to hide!

I have a strange kind of beauty when I rest in Your arms,

As a pure spotless child through Your grace.

And You see Your Son in my radiance,

Your Son in my heart, veins, feet, hands, and face.

I have a strange kind of strength when I rest in Your arms,

Your power manifested through my flesh

To love what You love, to do what You do,

To join in Your work, Your love, Your rest.