A miracle to calm the sea,
From water to make wine,
To raise the dead, restore to life,
Surely a work divine.
But faith becomes a miracle
When suffering we face,
When we accept it from God's hand
Though good we cannot trace.
But in the shadows yet unseen
We know He's still at work,
And so we walk in perfect peace,
Faith's tools do not shirk.
To say, "I'll drink this cup of pain
It's from my Father's hand,
For only beauty He creates,
One day I'll understand."
This miracle of faith is wrought
As we rest in God's hand,
Whatever tools He allows
Great beauty He has planned.
The highest form of faith is then
Acceptance of God's will,
Convinced He will transform all pain
We can at last be still.
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