Into your hands I commend my spirit, is what Christ Himself had cried,
The last words that He spoke, right before He died.
As we hang upon our cross in life, when too great seem the demands,
May we cry out to You Father, I commend my spirit into Your hands.

When what happens in this world, we can no longer understand.
When we are feeling sad, and life seems less than grand,
When shattered dreams lay all around us, we feel like sojourners, in a foreign land,
With Christ we can cry out, I commend my spirit into Your hands.

When life is going haywire, not at all as we had planned.
When the enemy encircles us, and we feel quite outmanned.
When we doubt our strength to persevere, have not the legs to stand,
May we call to You, dear Father, I commend my spirit into Your hands.

As we call out to You, Father, as You hear our embattled cry,
May we give all we have to You, may we to ourselves then die.
In dying to ourselves, we enjoin our crucifixion,
May this death to self, lead us to a glory resurrection.

May the tears which we now shed; each dark night lived as black as pitch.
Be the hoe which tills the watered soil, the nutrient which makes it rich.
And one day yet to come at one of our tomorrows,
May flowers bloom from today’s grief. May life spring forth from sorrow.

This brutal winter, all is barren. But flowers bloom whence comes the spring.
May our springtime of flowers, one day conversions bring.
May loved ones feeling crucified, call upon the Father, too,
I commend my spirit into Your hands, I give everything to You.

From all this suffering and sorrow, dear Father, in Your mercy bring,
Fields full of conversions, in us all, whence comes the spring.