Saturday, March 22, 2008

My Stronghold

The wind blew fierce,
driving the snow
Into hard-packed drifts.
It whistled and moaned
Around the building’s corners.

The weeds bent low
under the force.
The trees whipped and creaked,
skeletons against the
Grey, bleak sky.

There in the sky
hung a bird,
Skillfully riding the currents.
So free, was he,
From the turbulence around him.

All about me
beat the winds of strife,
Threat’ning to overcome me.
I cry for help
To my mighty Stronghold.

He holds me safely
in His strong hand,
And gently carries me through.
Listen my dear friend—
For He’ll do the same for you.

written December 8, 1982

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