Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Of Yokes and Hope





Dawn splays a madrigal of hope
Before our gaze, on eastern slope
The yoke of midnight disappears
As call of life and love endears
To us the soil beneath our feet
Where we embrace its bittersweet
Fixing our sights not on the sky
But on the One who hears our cry

…for oh, how bleak would be our want
Should we be chained to season-taunt
And nothing more, save for the thought
Of nothingness where once we sought
With eager eye the lust for life
Before the yoke of toil and strife
And heartache common unto man
Drew us to seek a higher hand

So we cling with hope’s pleading prayer
To He who gilds the waking air
With more than gold or crimson trace
But with assurances of grace
He bids us Come, lest we despair
By what we think we cannot bear
And so we fix our gaze upon
The hand that splays the sky with dawn

© Janet Martin

 “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”  Matt 11: 28-30

God Hath Not Promised Skies Always Blue

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