You drive us by your Spirit
to live lost for a while
in the wild beasts’ place,
unpeopled, devoid of markers.
But your eye does not wander,
you know where we are.
In the restive night, you are near.
In dreams disturbed by demons,
in the heart’s decisive turning,
through all the testing time, you abide,
encamped with strength around us,
And when it is over (until another time),
the angels come from you,
oil in their flasks and bandages in hand.
Praise, honor and thanks to you
from breadstone and pinnacle,
city and treasure, ministering angels,
your holy people, and every creature on earth,
now and in the endless age to come.