Why does your mercy unfold to me in layers as of an onion bulb?
Why ever do I wake to newness and the brightness of your glory like a blanket of cloud over me?
Why do I find my feet still running the race when I tire within; fly when I faint and stand when the earth quakes?
Why do you carry me on your wings of mercy; lift me with your arm of grace and bind me within the walls of your faithfulness?
Why do you spare my frailty when constantly, I veer away from your presence; conceited in my vain humanity, void of chastity and divinity?
Why do you find me daily, call me early and keep me always? Yes, like a potter you break me, mould me and fix me!