I'm on the brink, staring into the abyss.

My own strength is insufficient; my energy waning,

My knees buckling, my back breaking.

I can't do this on my own, I pitch towards my end.

My Maker sends me gifts from above:

I am saved by the loving hands of Providence.

She is comprised of the ones who love me.

They take burdens upon themselves as I look into certain death,

And I am given the power to turn my back and be saved.

What a gift it is to be loved, what a gift indeed.

The Son that had His back turned on died so I could live.

My Saviour is good indeed.