The Lighthouse

Far out on the desolate point

The battered lighthouse stands.
So small against the heaving waves
And yet one understands
That, if it were not standing there
Through all the storms that rise,
So many precious souls would drown
With none to hear their cries.

We may not be the brightest light

That God placed on the shore
But there are those tossed in life’s gales
Whom we must not ignore.
They are the ones clinging to life
While storm winds rage inside
And your light might be all that keeps
Them riding on the tide.

Don’t seek great praise for shining out,

But let your light grow bright.
God made you to be his lighthouse,
Stand strong, reflect his light
That you might lead the lost back home
Or save a drowning soul.
You may not be the brightest light,
But it’s a trusted role.

Again, thanks to Kelli Kercheval for the perfect photo to embody today's praise.