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The Widowing Field

Jars Of Clay


I’m sure that I could never make it through a night without you here
The fire in the skies illuminates the demons closing in.

Have mercy on my soul if I am not the last,
Have mercy on my soul if I am not the last to go.

As I crawl along these trails and fight upon this widowing field.
The ground below is bare and burned in the places I have learned to trust you.


Have mercy on my soul if I am not the last,
Have mercy on my soul if I am not the last to go

If I am not the last to go,
Believe in silence sets my heart to racing.
I will lift my eyes to you, please, Father, find me.

Have mercy on my soul if I am not the last,

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