Fervent Cry

 The Fervent Cry

When knees strike earth and soul takes flame,

Not whispered wish nor uttered name,

But wrestling tears that shake the dust—

This prayer God answers, rise He must.

“Ask, and it shall be opened wide”

(The Word stands firm, none turn aside).

Seek like a miner digs for gold;

Knock till the hinges break their hold.

For Elijah, flesh like ours,

Shut heaven down with three-year showers,

Then spoke again—the rains replied.

No favored few, no holy pride.

The widow’s oil, the barren’s song,

The thorn that prayed three times—so long?

“My grace suffices,” came the still,

Small voice that bends both time and will.

Not “yes” or “no” but “I am near”—

Sometimes a sword, sometimes a tear,

Sometimes a silence deeper than

The loudest roaring of a man.

But this the covenant: He hears.

Not one fierce cry has missed His ears.

The stone He’s not, the serpent’s lie—

He bends, He turns, He will reply.

So pour your heart out like a flood.

The altar waits. The Lamb’s own blood

Has sealed the answer: not a whim,

But Father’s hand reached out for him.

And when the night won’t let you stand,

Remember: prayer is His command.

The answer’s coming—not as quest,

But child, you’re cradled on His breast.