I bow again under Your mighty Hand,
And take hold of Your discipline,
Searching what it is You have to say.
I am on the look-out again for Your glorious Land,
And throw all unnecessary burdens aside.
"Honey" and "milk" is what You give me again.
What have I been busy,
Like a Martha in every case.
How did You have to chastize me.
How did I curse and complain,
And how sick it made me,
Before You got my attention.
How did I slave away,
A Mary make me now then at last.
That they fail to give me a simple 'Thank-you',
Let alone that I am truly valued,
It does not matter anymore, really.
Criticism or praise are equally worthless.
May I be only a listener from now on,
And be taught by You.
For You work in secret
Like the whispering of the wise,
A little child fine and humble,
I have finally rest for the morrow.
20 July, 2008 (Translated from the Dutch)