The sun seemed to stir from that summit this morning, washing the sky in riveting pink before slipping behind a wall of gray...
The Summit
of life’s hope-slope; may we strive to reach its top
Forever straining to that scrim from whence Time’s mercies
drop
And may its zeal and passion stir us ever up and on
From earth’s thorn-thistle thoroughfare to Heaven’s ageless
dawn
See how seasons spin their sonnets from a thread of ether ilk
Or, how echoes weave upon it through Time’s sun and sable silk
Run, wee one toward your dream-tree groaning with prospect
Soon you will turn to see its crown in hoary halo decked
Ah, depression and oppression and confession confound
Yet hope rings forth eternally where God and grace abound
For man, though foolish fumbling, stumbling flesh cannot
annul
The hope of Jesus’ righteousness and pardon paid in full
…and thus we press by faith toward a goal we cannot see
The Summit
of life’s hope-slope ends beyond mortality
So now we touch our feet upon this cold and chafing sod
For we are on a journey to Hope’s Fold; the arms of God
© Janet Martin
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I hope you enjoyed your pause on this porch and thank-you for your visit!