Again I'm confus'd, bewilder'd and torn;
I feel like a Sampson shaven and shorn.
Betrayed by my fears and wond'ring "What next?"
I'm taken, again, right back to this text;
"...My peace give I unto you," Jesus said,
"...Not as this world gives," His men Spirit-led.
They were radical and strange yet trusting,
Whereas I'm radic'lly strange, and doubting.
"...Faith like a mustard seed..." can move mountains;
Yet my shoulders carry the mountainous plains.
"My yoke is easy and my burden light,"
I cast all on Him to hold with His might.