Restlessness

I lie awake. Ps. cii. 7.

I know not how I ought to pray
In watches of the night,
When cares and sorrows on me weigh,
And sleep hath no delight.
Be near me, O my God, be near!
No other help can be.
If thou wilt sleep deny me here,
Still let me rest in thee.

I wish that I had wings to sail,
To like the dove retreat,
From ev’ry raging wind and gale
That earthward bind my feet.
I cast my burdens on thy grace—
O haste to hear my pleas!—
And ‘neath thee other hopes abase,
Assured that thou art peace.

Thou bidd’st me seek thy glorious face;
O give me heart to seek
Thy sov’reign beauty all my days,
Enthroned on Zion’s peak.
I long to seek no earthly toy,
But only, ever thee,
Who art my portion and my joy,
My God eternally.

Short as the watches of the night
My weary days pass on,
But as their watchmen with delight
Anticipate the dawn,
So to thy rise I lift my gaze,
O righteous, Sabbath Sun,
And set my heart to hope and praise
Till thou hast morn begun.

—7/4/26. To “Dear Refuge of My Weary Soul” (Twit) or “Kingsfold.” Insomnia IV.

Scripture references:

I. Rom. 8:26; Ps. 102:1-2, 7; Matt. 11:28
II. Ps. 55:6-8, 16-17, 22
III. Pss. 27:8, 4; 73:25-26
IV. Pss. 90:4; 130:6; 123:1; Mal. 4:2; Heb. 4:9-11; Prov. 4:18

It seems that I am composing an insomnia cycle. I wonder if David struggled with this, or Asaph. (Read Asaph, then try to tell me that the man slept.) It comes and goes; this was written over three different bouts, beginning, according to my journal, in April. It seems like it would both defeat the resolution of the hymn and wander into complaining to go into detail, but I don’t believe it difficult to parse what keeps me up: care, restlessness (wanderlust, even), divided heart or fear thereof, waiting on the Lord. The trick of these is not to lie to God, then to share that weakness within the church. I am no apostolic-level spectacle (1 Cor. 4:9), but oftentimes it does feel like I am putting myself on exhibition. Well, if that is what the Lord wants. He did not give me these gifts—neither the skill nor the insomnia—to hide them away.

One of the great comforts in this insomnia has been Anne Steele’s “Dear Refuge of My Weary Soul,” as set by Kevin Twit for Indelible Grace Music. Spotify, in God’s providence, shuffled it into my listening a week or two before I first started struggling again at the end of April. “The [algorithm] is cast into the lap, but its every decision is from the LORD” (Prov. 16:33).



This hymn has been a lifeline of sorts, and I do not pretend that I was not inspired by it. Even an uncareful comparison should reveal many similarities. I am particularly arrested by the verse:

Yet, gracious God, where shall I flee?
Thou art my only trust,
And still my soul would cling to thee,
Though prostrate in the dust.

What faith, to pen those lines. I am grateful for it.

Seeking a more traditional tune, I did/could not look incredibly much, as C.M.D. is such a well-worn meter. However, “Kingsfold,” which despite the Cyber Hymnal’s alternate is to my heart “I Heard the Voice of Jesus Say,” was one of the first ones that popped up, and I think it also fits well. The rise in the third couplet especially follows the contour of what I have written. That said, I am quite open to the possibility of a better fit.

He gives to his beloved sleep, beloved. I wait for it with patience. (Ps. 127:2; Rom. 8:25)

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Originally posted on Substack.