When in frustration quiet tears begin to fall , He holds me close And with His arms around me I need not explain. Because He knows. and how much more He understands when, in anger , I beat my fists against His chest and scream and stamp my foot, shouting 'Why' and 'How long?' And His scarred hands wait for me to drop , Where, on th'unyielding ground my body sobs with nothing left to say, How tenderly He scoops me up . No, I cannot escape His love for He will never let me go. Each time I raise my head, I find my tears , Reflected , In His eyes Eyes of the King (r.scantlebury)