The world is washed in mist and rain,
My heart has followed suit.
I cannot put a finger on
My current sorrow’s root,
But it is weighing down on me,
With grief growing acute.
I stand within my faith and yet
My soul trembles with pain.
I turn my eyes to heaven’s grace,
But still my tears remain.
It is as if, despite my hope,
My sorrow is a stain.
Yet, I know that the rain will slow,
The clouds will drift apart,
A golden light will brush each rim
And hopeful joy impart.
In that same way, my tears will dry
And His grace soothe my heart.
Matthew 5:4
“Blessed are those
who mourn, for they shall be comforted.
No comments:
Post a Comment