Half a Mustard Seed

I Need Thee Every Hour

I’ve always known my faith untried

Might be but half a mustard seed

Yet I know I cannot sustain

The depth of my most trivial need

And so I reach beyond myself

For this I know most certainly

There is a higher Hand to grasp

Although its form I cannot see

How can I know until it’s tried

The measure of faith’s depth or creed

I have trembled, prayed and cried

As I beheld my mustard seed

But as the unknown road of life

Tries me in its turn and twist

I reach above this temporal strife

To unseen Truths I know exist

I cannot see this Hand above

But oh, I feel its tender touch

It surrounds with His love

And I don’t worry quite so much

Humbly I whisper, for a spark

Though it is half a mustard seed

Will glimmer through the darkest dark

And render peace in spite of need

© Janet Martin