We all have known someone whose life has come undone,
But careful lest you fall; for help you will call.
The word was my desire, to calm the raging fire within me burning,
And solace I did find; my wounds he did bind.
The trials were sent in love, to make me rise above,
And like the prodigal son, "Thy will be done."
It's been some years, I fear, since I to him drew near,
I feel no pain inside.
The trials were sent in love, to make me rise above,
And like the prodigal son, "Thy will be done."
Will I ever feel your love again?
And is this empty heart something you'll mend?
Carry the wounded,
Can my mind and will on you depend, or will I fade into oblivion?
Carry the wounded,
Carry the wounded,
You are the lost sheep I long to find,
My love for you - the unconditional kind,
Carry the wounded,
The plans I have for you are not to harm, but you must listen - this is your alarm.
