𝐀 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐅𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝𝐬
Though fields deny the golden grain,
And orchards stand with boughs grown bare,
Though olive presses yield no strain,
And hunger hangs in empty air.

Though flocks grow few within the fold,
And herds depart from stalls of stone,
A story yet remains untold,
A hope I do not face alone.

For in this barren, fallow ground,
Where every earthly joy may cease,
A different, deeper joy is found,
A perfect, everlasting peace.

My feet are set upon the Rock,
Not shifting sand of circumstance;
He stands with me through shock and shock,
And grants my weary heart a dance.

The Lord, my God, is my great strength,
He makes my feet like those of deer,
And carries me through arid length,
To walk the high places, free from fear.

So let the world withhold its store,
My song will rise from deep inside;
My Saviour, I will ask for more
Of You, for You will still provide.

My heart will trust in Christ alone,
The Author and the Perfecter;
He reigns upon the mercy throne
My glorious, my sure Redeemer.