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Rated: E · Poetry · Religious · #2093645
The long night finds hope in the silver smith, the potter, and Hinds' Feet on High Places.
The lonely night of longing soul,
may cause the heart to ache,
For hope deferred means not yet whole,
nor road yet seen to take.

"Dear Lord, where are You? Will You speak?
Will You, yet, help me see?
"I follow You, though daily bleak
the hope of Light for me."

"Trust in The Lord with all thine heart,
Lean not upon thyself,
"He will direct you from the start,
acknowledging Himself."

I know these verses Proverbs 3
are 5 & 6 in truth,
I keep them in the depths of me,
have done so from my youth.

How long, O Lord, 'til all the dross
be purged from my sad soul?
What form will take as my own cross,
before I'm truly whole?

The crippled crone, named Much Afraid,
was forced to climb up high
The Precipice with strong, true aid,
regardless tears to cry.

How harsh this Wall of Injury
to Sorrow, Sadness tied!
Yet, Love was cause to make her free,
that new hind's feet abide!

How thank I God Miss Hurnard wrote
this story, soul to bless!
She said quite early and I quote
the dearest line, I guess.

"...the Prince of Love has tender heart
to those, who are afraid,"
I've shed great tears from very start
as words in ears are played.

The lonely night doth seem so long,
until The Potter's done,
But when He is with Light and song,
we'll know the vict'ry won!

Line Count: 40

by Jay O'Toole
on August 17, 2016
© Copyright 2016 Jay O'Toole (777stan at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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