by Liv Dietrich Habakkuk 3: 17-19
Though the fig tree does not blossom
And no fruit is on the vine
The olive oil is bitter
And all the crops have died
The lambs are cut off from the fold
There are no cattle in the stalls
Yet I will rejoice in the Lord
I will have victory in the God of it all
The Lord God is my strength
He is the bravery within me
He fights my battle like an army
Sending my enemy far from me
He makes me run as swift as a deer
And not stand still in salty tears
He lets me climb up that holy hill
To stand above trouble, pain and fear
(chorus)
So I run to that mountain
To the mountain made of praise
To the top of that mountain
With my arms triumphantly raised!