From where does all this pain arise?
Why does my heart cry within?
Tokens of love abandoned in the street,
Hope dashed beneath men’s feet.
Surely God above planned more life than this,
A life scarred by war and toil.
Surely the One called Love brought us forth,
To do more than fertilize His soil.
Whereby do we gain His promise kept?
Wherewith is it caught and claimed?
Is not there more to this life found,
Than tears, sweat, blood and pain?
I know that there is a promise give’
Of perfect life by and by.
But would it be too much to ask,
To live His Life before I die?
Can a man so frail, wounded and weak,
Ever know happiness more than grief?
Can a lowly specimen such as I,
Know life that is more than a Thief?
I read novels of pain and sorrow,
But all abides well in the end.
I read a book of holy writ,
And it spoke of life freed of sin.
So here is Hope’s shadow on my door,
He wrestles with Reaper Grim.
That my parting days who is to say,
Might be blessed by peace within.
Michael Clark
3/18/2000
Bayview, Idaho
This Thorn
- by Donna Gale Strube
Thank you for this thorn embedded in my flesh
I can feel the mystery my spirit is made fresh
You are sovereign still and forever wise
I can see the miracle opening my eyes
To a proud heart so quick to judge
Laying down crosses and carrying grudges
The veil has been torn
And I thank You for this thorn
Thank you for this thorn fellowship of pain
Teaching me to know You more never to complain
Thank You for this love planted in my side
Faithful patient miracle opening my eyes
I never thought I'd say it without reservation
But I am truly grateful for this piercing revelation
Of a proud heart so quick to judge
Laying down crosses and carrying grudges
The veil has been torn
And I thank you for this thorn
And if You chose to take it, I will praise You
And thank You for the healing in your name
But if it must remain, I thank You for Your rod
Evidence of Father-love for a child of God
I join you in sorrow
So much less than You have borne
And I thank you
Really I thank You
Lord I thank You
I thank You for this thorn.
Butt
Prints In The Sand
One night I had a wondrous dream,
One set of footprints there was seen,
The footprints of my precious Lord,
But mine were not along the shore.
But then some stranger prints appeared...
And I asked the Lord, "What have we here?
Those prints are large and round and neat,
But Lord, they are too big for feet."
"My child," He said in somber tones,
"For miles I carried you alone.
I challenged you to walk in faith,
But you refused and made me wait."
"You disobeyed, you would not grow,
The walk of faith you would not know...
So I got tired, I got fed up,
And there I dropped you on your butt."
"Because in life there comes a time
When one must fight, and one must climb,
When one must rise and take a stand,
Or leave their butt prints in the sand."
- Author Unknown
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