Comfort of the Soul

 Therefore we ought to give the more earnest heed to the things which we have heard, 

lest at any time we should let them slip.

Heb.2:1

Our times are in God’s hands

Sweet Comfort of the soul

In spite of man’s heathen demands

This whisper can console

Time’s mortal stint on sod

Commands utmost respect

For soon death’s rod transports to God

What no one should neglect

There is no most or least

With God, his love full-free

He spreads on morning skies a feast

Of opportunity

And pours into time’s Call

A new measure of grace

Where no care is too big or small

To lay before His face

With day to week to year

Time’s Awesome Wick grows dim

That none but God can commandeer

On our way back to him

© Janet Martin