 |
I will honor the Lord,
He pulled me from the pit;
So beloved and adored,
I construe as I sit.
He lets not foes rejoice,
For the Lord is my God;
He hears stress in my voice,
When I have become flawed.
I cry out for His aid,
He rescues when appealed;
He comforts when afraid,
Assists me to be healed.
He called me back to life,
Bringing me from the grave;
Helping me through the strife,
That sin made me its slave.
Make songs to praise the Lord,
You who belong to Him;
Remain in one accord.
For His vigor and vim.
Think of Him and give thanks,
His favor is for life;
Priceless more than the banks,
Comforting through the strife.
His anger lasts a bit,
Weeping may last the night;
Contemplate as you sit,
Joy comes by morning light.
When all is well with me,
I will not be shaken;
His insight I will see,
He has not forsaken.
I decided to search,
So I could go embrace;
I found Him in the church,
But He had hid His face.
So I let my soul praise,
With song that will not mute;
Giving Him thanks always,
All I can contribute.
Copyright © 2017 Richard Newton Sherrer
Vote for this poem
Carried Through
|
|
|
|
©2000 - 2022, Individual Authors of the Poetry. All rights reserved by authors.
Visit My Home Page | Start Your Own Poetry Site | PoetryPoem
[ Control Panel ] [ Today's Poetry - ALL Poets ] [ Search ]
|
|
