When storms of doubt assail the weary mind,
And days grow sharp with unrelenting care,
I turn to thee, a harbor softly kind,
Where wounded thoughts may rest and breathe repair.
Thy presence stills the thunder in my chest,
Thy voice becomes the calm my fears obey;
Within thy love, my restless heart finds rest,
A sheltered shore at close of troubled day.
The world may bruise with truth too hard to bear,
Yet here, no mask nor armor must I wear;
In thee, I stand unjudged, made whole and bare,
As fragile hopes relearn the strength to dare.
So love, when all else falters, proves its art:
A quiet home for the unguarded heart.
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