Another Porch ...A Poetry Blog: Hope's Pilgrimage

Monday, April 9, 2018

Sometimes we run the danger of blaming Someone amiss

For trouble’s trial, terrible; adverse to mortal wish

But, He who sets the night at ease with magenta and rose

Is the Rock in life’s tragedies; the Solace in our woes

First Impulse is a rebel and sometimes a liar too

It stirs us to ask questions that there are no answers to

The way of trust is hard, but authored by the nail-scarred Hands

Of He who suffered every sorrow, so He understands

The hurt and heartache common to we, sojourners of earth

Are but a shadow of the pain that wrought Salvation’s worth/birth

And sometimes we forget how much He cares and loves us so

Where faithful to His promises He is our friend, not foe

Love lends to us all that we have but no one ever owns

This Passage we call Time and Life, like sacred stepping-stones

Where mercy knew the dark valleys Hope must pass through before

We reach The Promised Land where nail-scarred Hands will ope the Door

This Hymn written by William Cowper is a go-to when I don't understand...

Esp. the 4th and 6th stanza!

God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm
Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs
And works His sov’reign will.
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break
In blessings on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence
He hides a smiling face.
His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flow’r.
Blind unbelief is sure to err
And scan His work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.