A mother’s arms. Dear mother, with you I’m safe, as the raging storm carries on. When thunder booms inside and outside this temple wall, when I cry out, you hurry to my side, reassure me, that love will win. You heal my soul; remind it hope will surely come, though sometimes slow, as righteous acts aren’t easily won, Let my mind now rest, against your bosom, that I may hear your steady heart. Be my bravery still, until I can find my own, reassure me again that this war, too, soon will end, Hold me fast, make me whole, all night, till’ last: one pure heart ensures that mine can mend.
