I am tired of 

Seeking burning bushes in thistles 

Holding my staff to Red Seas

Casting rods expecting serpents

Raising my arms to invoke locusts

I am tired of

Stubborn Pharaohs and heartless foremen

Grumpy followers with wearied belief

Bloodied door posts and darkened cities

Dead children of grieving hosts 

I am tired of

Wormy manna and disobedient men

Forty years around a spot

Bitter water and striking rocks

Milk and honey hidden by dust

As I view the next horizon

May my hope not be deadly poison

The walk of faith has made me sore

As I leave my comfort zone once more

Let the promise land be where I fall