I'm on the brink, staring into the abyss.
My own strength is insufficient; my energy waning,
My knees buckling, my back breaking.
I can't do this on my own, I pitch towards my end.
My Maker sends me gifts from above:
I am saved by the loving hands of Providence.
She is comprised of the ones who love me.
They take burdens upon themselves as I look into certain death,
And I am given the power to turn my back and be saved.
What a gift it is to be loved, what a gift indeed.
The Son that had His back turned on died so I could live.
My Saviour is good indeed.