The Iron Did Swim
(2nd Kings 6:1-7)
(DADGAD / capo 8)

Aug. 15 - Sept. 23, 1999. A Charles Spurgeon-induced song. Wish I could get away with his original wording: "the iron doth swim". My original chorus to this song was lackluster at best. My wife even told me so. I'm glad she encouraged me to rewrite it because, otherwise, in the chorus you'd be hearing:

Go west young man, don't hurry to find
Go west young man, in faith and good time
As the sun sets (amazed across my soul)

blah, blah, blah..…yawn...... I prefer the official and current version. I've always imagined this as a war song. What with the water-bearers' ladles full of thirst-quenching sustenance on a dry, hot battlefield and the patient and wounded infantrymen awaiting further orders to attack, for the umpteenth time, a well-fortified, unforgiving, and as yet immovable enemy stronghold, it seems that there is indeed an enemy lurking who seeks to root out any last vestiges of hope or confidence that we may still possess. It's in those moments that home becomes a lean-to shelter of age-old promises spoken by a quiet and ever-present voice.

Patience is not my forte. As is so often the case, the waiting does indeed tempt a whole slew of second thoughts.

faith, we all could use a sip of your water
the battle rages on, redoubts have not yet fallen
has it been this long since i felt the pangs of birth?
on the one hand clenching life and the other not sure of my worth

like the old oak trees who offer out their branches
loneliness becomes a friend while hope becomes a lantern
did i ever ask you what it's like to know the time?
i'm writing words to feed us while the devil plays games in my mind

when i am tired
you are my rest
in between the battles
of the spirit and the flesh
when i'm out of rope
may yours begin
a tug of war with myself
and a fool on either end

we all are wearing wounds from the thief who lives among us
searching the western front for bombs still unexploded
making a lean-to shelter out of your promises
dressed in heavy sackcloth with a heart that of Thomas

i might be hard of hearing or i'm misunderstanding
what i thought you wanted now feels like i've been abandoned
the waiting, yes the waiting, tempts a slew of second thoughts
fix my eyes forward and i go with thanks in my heart

when i am hopeless
be my reason to rejoice
you who give so freely
even the thanks within my voice
when i am forgetful
may remembrance, like the wind,
come rushing up to greet me with thanks
that the iron did swim