Death of the soul is at hand
I fear I may be lost.
I see no hope at the end of my tunnel.
And yet, though I fear myself to be lost,
If I look carefully, closely, I can see.
Yes, I can see Your hand
Moving and blessing me throughout my days.
A kind word, a birds' song, rest from my troubles.
So I stop, I cease my labors for a day
And sing and praise You for Your many mercies.
I praise You for the mountains You have lifted me o'er,
The valleys You have carried me through,
The waters You have parted for me
That I may walk on dry land.
Though the devil may tempt me
With human passions, lusts, and habits
Yet do I put my hope and trust in You.
For You are the One, my only Deliverer
From he who seeks the death of my very soul.
This blessèd assurance of Your constant presence
Is what keeps me moving in this dark tunnel
Though all seems lost and hopeless,
Though my body cries out for relief,
Yet will I put my trust in You
Oh my Lord, my Savior, my Friend.
YOU ARE READING
Out from the Darkness
PoetryA collection of poems written with the goal to praise the God who created us all.
