| Even Though Weary |
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I'm trying to climb another mountain. But, I'm so weary, it seems. I wish I had stayed in the lush valley and Found respite in the cool water streams. Have I forgotten to take my provision, Needed to help me on the way; Filling, to the full, on His word - refreshing? Or, did I forget to praise as I pray? I must not look back. T'would be to admit my defeat. I must keep on climbing. The Lord never sounded retreat. Ever mindful on my way, Jesus has been here, before me. I must keep my tired eyes on the mountain top; A better view of His splendour to see. All I see must be sifted through His word, To discern the truth in all things; The laying all on the altar, in praise, To face what each new day brings. When weariness over takes me, and To go on seems more than I can bare, He tells me to lean on Him. 'Tis easier when the burdens we share. Sometimes, I long for what was before, For fearing what lies ahead; with dread. In His word, a promise of an oasis. Keep on climbing. He will do as He has said. There is clean, clear, water refreshing From the mountains that feed the valley, below. Keep on climbing the mountain. As you do, then, you, too, will know ... The purest water is sifted Through the sand and rocks, and stone. The finest treasures are hidden (until they go To the refiner's fire), unspoken, unknown. Often, the sweetest rose, ever perfect, Is found on the mountain, where it grows. Sometimes, we do our best service, though weary, In the secret time that nobody else knows. Many times, the sweetest song we sing, from our heart, Aches where and when no one can see or hear; Touching the heart of God, Himself, So to hear us. He will draw near. Praises, from tired lips, are often The most precious songs we sing. Prayers, long before the day breaks, are The ones that make the bells of heaven ring. When too weary for the journey ahead, Take rest and begin to praise Him, anyway. For, it will ne're be forgotten In the light of heaven, someday. Has your journey been filled with stone And pebbles to bruise your feet? Just remember the mountain top and climb on To where you and Heaven will meet. Refined through the fire of His word, Sifted through a nail scared hand, Brought from the fire as gold (Where the pure water flows) And upon His promises; Even though weary, I stand. |
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© 2003 by Sandra Griffin Sandra |
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