Poetry

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There is trouble all around,
I’m beset on every side.
The path to victory hidden,
I desire to run and hide.
I pray unto the heavens
For sweet respite from above:
Cooling current from Angel’s wings
Or the settling of a dove.

My ears have strained to capture
Any word of hope and peace,
Bowing beneath my burden
I cry out for sweet release.
The silence that engulfs me
Serves to mock my aching heart:
Whispered lies of hopelessness;
Misery that never departs.

Then a still, small voice whispers
In a message clear and true,
"When you look unto the world,
Worldly things appear to you.
If you desire to know victory,
Look beyond this earthly guise.
To see the promises of God
You must look with faith’s own eyes.

Faith’s eyes are always open
To the promised joy ahead,
She knows her loving Father
Remembers all He has said.
She listens not to worry,
And by doubt she is not swayed:
Her hope lies not with this world,
But in the Ancient of Days."

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