Mountain Prayer

from by Holly Arrowsmith

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You wake me in the dusty light of the dawn
I'd given up all hope, that I'd be found here
The smell of the wild pine, blows on the wind
And their heavy branches sing out an old solemn prayer
To the cold mountain air
You wear the light of a thousand suns burning
I wear a dress made of sin and shame
In Your warm presence my cold heart is turning
In Your eyes, I see nothing but grace
The light on the path, is the light from Your face

As You call, ‘Come home My son My daughter come home
I am slow to anger and abounding in love
I won't rest, till you’re back in my arms
Please come home’

As You lead, You are calling the fallen
Your voice fills the valley with the sweetest song
Saying ‘Those who are bound, come forth out of darkness
Into My light where you belong’
Oh the darkness shrieks, as Your light rends its power
It fumbles to grab me, to stop my release
But it cannot come near
For in love is no fear
It cowers and hides
A wounded beast
And I now understand who I am, who You are
As we follow You over the rise
There are holes in Your hands and one in Your side
I fall to the ground with my hands on my eyes
As my rags are turned to glory in Your light
And the hills are awakening, mountains start shaking
All nature bursts forth into song
Through the woods and mountain passes
The winds like anthems roll
As the children, who once were in the darkness
Have come home


from For The Weary Traveller, released July 31, 2015



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Holly Arrowsmith Auckland, New Zealand

Pure and unfettered but not lacking in power or force. Stories of crystalline prose, encased in lucid reverence of nature.

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