Cold. Grey. Damp. Norfolk.
I'm not sure I can see the end any more, I'm not convinced it will happen. I don't really...believe...
Faith as small as a mustard seed moves mountains. There's got to be a small shred left? The very fact that I want to believe, to have faith.
I don't have to strive, to be good enough, I can just wait in Grace.
For in my helplessness you will hear my cry, then waves of mercy will pour out in my life...
"I'm running fast and free to you, cuz you are the movement and fight in me..."
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