There are always plenty of presents
underneath my Christmas tree.
But this year I ask the Lord
for more than earthly glee.
Dear Lord I ask you to package
the strength to endure,
the end of the year is near,
weeks remaining, four.
Keep me from wanting to scream
after every horrible dream,
from needing to cry
because you had to die,
from wanting to hide
since I lost my pride.
Santa is way out of his league,
my dear.
I need the blessing of my Jesus
to make it through this year.
underneath my Christmas tree.
But this year I ask the Lord
for more than earthly glee.
Dear Lord I ask you to package
the strength to endure,
the end of the year is near,
weeks remaining, four.
Keep me from wanting to scream
after every horrible dream,
from needing to cry
because you had to die,
from wanting to hide
since I lost my pride.
Santa is way out of his league,
my dear.
I need the blessing of my Jesus
to make it through this year.