Here I sit, 

Churning thoughts in my head.

Plans I make, I'm going to do,

And I hear you say, "Come my Child, wait on me.

My Yoke is easy.  My burden is light."

The enemy presses, thoughts surging -

I'm going to make this happen

And I hear you say, "Wait, My Child.  Wait on me.

My thoughts fly back, 

'But, I must be about my  Father's business.'

All while My Father is saying, "Wait, My Child.  Come rest in me."