I woke up the middle of the night
When the stars seem not of blightLord, remember my plea that lay
At the foostool of Thy presence...
The praises deafen the silence,
The melody of the songs shiverBreath of her life, dainty to bear
Thine Hand only will ever save!
Faith is not a grain of mustard,
But like a billowing cloud that shone--
By the sky not of tempest but of calm
Here's a beggar below the Throne!
But this beggar is not for alms,
Only for Thy mercy that never ends
Only for Thy love which magnifies
Only for Thy tenderness that shines!
O' this beggar never loss hope,
As the day passes its zenith
Knowing that the velvet of grace
Engulfs me in my nothingness.
I know nothing is too wonderful,
For a God whose power is infinite
As this beggar gaze at the horizon
Beyond the mountains enthrone!
The sky is blue, oceans are misty
Sun may blaze and scorch the lily
Avalanche may come, so heavy---
The beggar prayed and not dreary...
All rights reserved: Cynthia Abegail
No comments:
Post a Comment