His Grace

War strikes; my heart fails, but heals again.

Surrender; yes, but no; never should darkness win.

I’m tired, I’m weak, I rise and fall unable to speak.

Never have these eyes seen what they see today.

I see the end; I see goodness; I see the division of light.

Dark abysses grow to the left; glory’s illumination right.

Often pain insufferable; seldom, oh seldom comes ease.

Hang on, never give up; surrender is too easy; I cling now to grace.

What does this all mean and why has this battle chosen me?

“And he said unto me, my grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”  2 Corinthians 12:9

J. Allen Wilson © 3/2008