Sometimes when one is the weakest, they are at their strongest.
From whence cometh this bitter wind
that bringeth chill to my bones?
Oh, grant me Lord,
and hear my plea, give unto me,
a cup of thy serenity.
Deliver me out of harms way,
for the snares of life, and the toil of tears,
hath brought me shame.
Pity me Lord, banish now from me this fear.
Give me shelter and cover my life's stain.
Lift me from my tortured pain, restoreth now, my name.
J. Allen Wilson © 2003
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|Reviewed by Poetry Deborah
|Beautiful Allen, Amen!
|Reviewed by Rebekah Rosie Lang
|Amen. Beautiful prayer, and I know the good Lord shall hear you! He heard me when I was ill with my terminal disease and now I am ALIVE! All things are possible! I am sorry though for your loss about your friend however, that cannot be undone.|
|Reviewed by George MacLean Akurunwa
|A deeply moving piece. May your prayers be answered.|