Grace Thoughts

When the morning's silvery shadows w eigh heavy on the pilgrim soul, a  promise reaches through the weathered pages of time and through the unchangeable Word of God. "Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest." The words of Jesus echo in my heart. When the golden edges of dawn usher in deep shadows, fierce storms, blazing heat or dreary clouds, Christ's Words stand fast and true.   

As midnight darkness Turns into morning glory, So my soul sorrow t ells a story Written by my Savior's hand; Etched in crimson: His perfect plan. .     .     .     . Though I fall short  His grace is more. Where my feet faint,  His mercies soar. And from my weakness His grace I see, As is hands of mercy carry me.  

  Christ does plant the seeds of sorrow Where the blooms of hope shall grow. First, His hand takes up the harrow Our hearts to plow so He may sow. .     .     .     . For though His heart, with love abiding, Pushes seeds of pain and sting Deep within our soul's soil finding Wounds of grace from which His mercy springs. .     .     .     . The beauty of His grace designing Quieted hearts, His praises to sing. For from the darkness, the petals bursting See the sun shine like a king. .     .     .     . Yet first they must be lowered in death's dark prison To be prepared to meet the Son Who shed His rays of love in crimson Who reaps the harvest He's begun.

  Amidst the shimmering sunshine rays, A force so soft it wisps its way Through silent blades of dewy grass; A swirling, whirling, whispering sash. .     .     .     . It joins the chorus of the skies. A breath of wonder to arise, The sight that sees without the eyes A hush, a rush, a swirling flush Of steamy strength; the hidden blush That echoes past the singing thrush It shakes the boughs and branches tall Of towering trees---their glory falls. It hurries on a subtle call. .     .     .     . To tell the world in icy lisps, The story seen in sightless glimpse. A tugging echo---a yearning drawl: IN ALL WE SEE, WE SEE NOT ALL.

I search the darkest pools of night, For a beam of glorious light. As my soul waits in faith to see, A fragment of Your love for me. .    .    .    .    . I wait and wait and wait in vain For light to shine and love to gain. Tear filled eyes meet the earth's cold touch As doubts and fears hold me in their clutch. .    .    .    .    . Yet Grace and Truth whisper in the breeze: "Should not God's promises you seize? In this moment of faltering faith, Lean all the more upon His grace." .    .    .    .    . I listen deep and tremble more And gaze into the sky---I had before. Deepest darkness meets my eyes Swallowing up my tear filled cries. .    .    .    .    . Truth and Grace whisper once again, "Take heart, the darkness is not dark to Him. If you could gather up the night's dark folds, And hide yourself in its darkest holds; Or journey to the ends of the earth, Even wish to blot out the day of your birth; If you could somehow ride the wings Of the wind that H