Morn's Melody of Mercy Pours

It’s been a solemn week,

as well as another neighboring farm mishap,

 bringing two next door neighbors together

in rooms side by side

in a hospital over an hour away!

I cannot divulge the details of some very anguishing moments

juxtaposed with some very awesome ones 

only a comforting God could orchestrate!

Isa. 43:1-2

Now this is what the LORD says—

He who created you, O Jacob,

and He who formed you, O Israel:

“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;

I have called you by your name; you are Mine!

I will be with you;

and when you go through the rivers,

they will not overwhelm you…

Morn’s melody of mercy pours in strains of blush and blue

Hope beckons us to bow before the Lord and trust anew

Remembering that He who grants the onus of today

Is bigger than the circumstance that soon passes away

Heaven and earth are in the faithful, loving care of He

Who authors birth; all life exists by His authority

Thus, we are not our own; we do not orchestrate time’s sands

Nor arrange Today’s stepping stone, God cradles in His hands

With every joy, a grief is born/borne; life’s bloom soon bears death’s due/dew

And oft the human heart is torn as sorrow runs it through

With higher thoughts and ways of He whose love perfects command

Who hears the praise and pleas of we who cannot understand

Day turns to night; night turns to day; Time’s tugboat nears the goal

Where dust will claim Frame’s petal-fray and God reclaims the Soul

Behold! morn’s blush-blue medleys poured from founts where mercies brim

Hope beckons us to bow before the Lord and trust in Him

He will not fail through love’s travail that life is bound to bring

He hoists, within the howling gale the shadow of His wing

Are but a glimpse of Calvary ere death was overthrown

A melody of mercy pours from love that knows no bounds

Faith feels its way between two shores where circumstance confounds

But cannot curb the ocean of God’s compassion and grace

To deepen our devotion till we see Him face to face

© Janet Martin

With every joy, a grief is born; the bloom soon bears death’s due/dew…

that the children of men take refuge in the shadow of Your wings!

Ps.145:13