Oh, my God is in the whirlwind,
I am walking in the valley;
Lift me up, O Shinning Father,
To the glory of the heavens,
I have seen a thousand troubles
On the journey men call living,
I have drunk a thousand goblets
From misfortune’s bitter wine press.
But to Thee I cling forever,
God of Jacob, God of Rachel.
Oh, my soul is in the whirlwind,
I am dying in the valley,
Oh, my soul is in the whirlwind
And my bones are in the valley;
At her spinning wheel is Mary
Spinning raiment of the lilies,
On her knees is Martha honey
Shinning bright the golden pavement.
All the ninety nine is waiting
For my coming, for my coming.