if life were simply sea and sky
and sod beneath our feet
and hills and dells of low and high
or hard or easy street
if you and I were all there was
without the hope for more
then joy would be a joke because
what would this life be for?
if wake and sleep and work and eat
and struggle to survive
would be the sole goal of this fete
to keep ourselves alive
if sum of what a clock can coax
is all that we could claim
then happiness would a hoax
and life a cruel game
but life is so much more than days
blazing trails to a grave
much more than meted moment-haze
that we are born to brave
life is a gift from from loving God
a rift that seasons skim
while breath by breath we scale the rod
that draws us back to Him
for we are more than accidents
that fell from who knows where
To try the ways of providence
then fade into thin air
We are the workmanship of He
who sparks each mortal flame
on Wick of Immortality
that none but God can claim
Janet Martin
a rift that seasons skim
while breath by breath we scale the rod
that draws us back to Him
for we are more than accidents
that fell from who knows where
To try the ways of providence
then fade into thin air
We are the workmanship of He
who sparks each mortal flame
on Wick of Immortality
that none but God can claim
Janet Martin
