With Thee I Would Fly
Upon my brow,
this crown of bent and twisted sorrows.
Upon my wrists,
these iron chains of despair.
Broken,
these wings, to the heavens shant cary.
This earth,
without them, is where I shall die.
From my brow,
this crown I would have thee lift.
My wrists,
these chains unbind.
Repair for me my love,
these broken wings,
and with thee I would fly.
Weighted by my sadness,
to the heavens I shant soar.
Wounded and bleeding,
upon this wretched earth I lay.
Praying,
my beloved's touch, I await.
For without,
Bleak and hopeless shall be my end.
From my heart,
this weight I would have thee lift.
My wounds,
I would ask thee to bind.
Grant me my love,
your precious touch,
and with thee I would fly.
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