Thirty Seven. (a God-poem for the hurt)

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For shouldst thou face the wicked ways of man
A fear shall tempt thy heart to dry and wilt.
With evil goals to stray thee from His plan
And solve injustice by the bladed hilt.

Thou needst but drink the Word by David's hand!
Which floweth from the Scriptures God hath built!
And watch the wicked crumble as the sand,
Their deeds and kingdoms wither into silt.

Whilst thou in righteous faith forevermore,
Whose strongly founded walls of Spirit make,
Shall weather out much worse than such a storm
No shelter will the wicked find to take.

And in those times of strife which they hath born,
Do Pray for them, and tell them for their sake,
That battles fought and won means not the war,
They can in victory but bodies take.

Eternity in God's unending Grace,
Compassion and forgiveness in the face
Of all who seek to move thee from thy place,
And all thou needst, a modicum of Faith.

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Dear Quihadi , Thanks for the Awardicon, it was a joy to write this poem for "The Lighthouse Poetry Contest" . Thank you for the recognition of placing it Third.

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