Spirit

There dwells in me a tiny light.
A spirit that never dies.
It cannot perish, come the night,
Nor quail beneath stormy skies.

It does grow faint, when I go astray
From the one who has created it;
And I must labor to find a way
to rekindle my weakened spirit.

Oh how my life seems utterly wrong,
When I wander from where it came.
Oh how I suffer, and struggle along,
With only a spark for a flame.

But let this light, this tiny light,
Be fanned by God's great hand;
Then I am given a brief insight,
Revelation, or command;

And peace and joy wash over me
With waves of such delight,
As my spirit glows with glory;
And heaven remains in my sight.