David’s Child
IN face of a great sorrow like to death
How do we wrestle night and day with tears;
How do we fast and pray; how small appears
The outside world, while, hanging on some breath
Of fragile hope, the chamber where we lie
Includes all space.--But if sudden at last
The blow falls; or by incredulity
Fond led, we--never having one thought cast
Towards years where 'the child' was not--see it die,
And with it all our future, all our past,--
We just look round us with a dull surprise:
For lesser pangs we had filled earth with cries
Of wild and angry grief that would be heard:--
But when the heart is broken--not a word.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
The Fountain of Tears
If you go over desert and mountain,
Far into the country of Sorrow,
To-day and to-night and to-morrow,
And maybe for months and for years;
You shall come with a heart that is bursting
For trouble and toiling and thirsting,
You shall certainly come to the fountain
At length,—to the Fountain of Tears.
Very peaceful the place is, and solely
For piteous lamenting and sighing,
And those who come living or dying
Alike from their hopes and their fears;
Full of cypress-like shadows the place is,
And statues that cover their faces:
But out of the gloom springs the holy
And beautiful Fountain of Tears.
And it flows and it flows with a motion
So gentle and lovely and listless,
And murmurs a tune so resistless
To him who hath suffer'd and hears—
You shall surely—without a word spoken,
Kneel down there and know your heart broken,
And yield to the long-curb'd emotion
That day by the Fountain of Tears.
For it grows and it grows, as though leaping
Up higher the more one is thinking;
And ever its tunes go on sinking
More poignantly into the ears:
Yea, so blessèd and good seems that fountain,
Reach'd after dry desert and mountain,
You shall fall down at length in your weeping
And bathe your sad face in the tears.
Then alas! while you lie there a season
And sob between living and dying,
And give up the land you were trying
To find 'mid your hopes and your fears;
—O the world shall come up and pass o'er you,
Strong men shall not stay to care for you,
Nor wonder indeed for what reason
Your way should seem harder than theirs.
But perhaps, while you lie, never lifting
Your cheek from the wet leaves it presses,
Nor caring to raise your wet tresses
And look how the cold world appears—
O perhaps the mere silences round you—
All things in that place Grief hath found you—
Yea, e'en to the clouds o'er you drifting,
May soothe you somewhat through your tears.
You may feel, when a falling leaf brushes
Your face, as though some one had kiss'd you,
Or think at least some one who miss'd you
Had sent you a thought,—if that cheers;
Or a bird's little song, faint and broken,
May pass for a tender word spoken:
—Enough, while around you there rushes
That life-drowning torrent of tears.
And the tears shall flow faster and faster,
Brim over and baffle resistance,
And roll down blear'd roads to each distance
Of past desolation and years;
Till they cover the place of each sorrow,
And leave you no past and no morrow:
For what man is able to master
And stem the great Fountain of Tears?
But the floods and the tears meet and gather;
The sound of them all grows like thunder:
—O into what bosom, I wonder,
Is pour'd the whole sorrow of years?
For Eternity only seems keeping
Account of the great human weeping:
May God, then, the Maker and Father—
May He find a place for the tears!
poem by Arthur William Edgar O'Shaughnessy
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Here Comes Tomorrow
Here comes tomorrow, the past is gone
The future has begun, it's goin' on and on
Here comes tomorrow, one step ahead
The future has begun, no time for feeling sad
Magic space, the game we play
Connected by the highway we meet every day
Realise, don't run away
We're livin' in the future all the way
As long as love exists
And miracles are missed
The world will be the same
Coming from no man's land
Where will the future end
It's just another game
Here comes tomorrow, top it till you drop it
No one can stop it, ticking like a bomb
Time is running fast, don't think about the past
Everywhere, the human race, is lost in space
Here comes the future, the past is gone
It's going up and down round and round on and on
Strong upon, till the break of dawn
Forget about sorrow, here comes tomorrow
Ruled by passivity, lost in endless liberty
Every time, every place, lost in space
High-speed machines not only in my dreams
It seems to be reality / reality
What about the face of humanity ?
What about the world insanity ?
Fantasy TV, welcome to the show
Down to number zero, here comes tomorrow
Physical or virtual, emotional or logical
The future, the point of no return
Now is the beginning of a brand-new era
We are close to enter the land of Utopia
Bits and bytes are getting faster and faster
My master leading to an overkill disaster
What about the face of humanity ?
What about the world insanity ?
Fast or slow, you know let it go
Forget about sorrow, here comes tomorrow
song performed by by DJ Bobo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Weeping Mary
Mary to her Saviour's tomb
Hasted at the early dawn;
Spice she brought, and sweet perfume,
But the Lord, The loved, was gone.
For awhile she weeping stood,
Struck with sorrow and surprise;
Shedding tears, a plenteous flood,
For her heart supplied her eyes.
Jesus, who is always near,
Though too often unperceived
Came, his drooping child to cheer,
And enquired, Why she grieved?
Though at first she knew him not,
When he called her by her name,
Then her griefs were all forgot,
For she found he was the same.
Grief and sighing quickly fled
When she heard his welcome voice;
Just before she thought him dead,
Now he bids her heart rejoice:
What a change his word can make,
Turning darkness into day!
You who weep for Jesus' sake;
He will wipe your tears away.
He who came to comfort her,
When she thought her all was lost;
Will for your relief appear,
Though you now are tempest-tossed:
On his word your burden cast,
On his love your thoughts employ;
Weeping for awhile may last,
But the morning brings the joy.
poem by John Newton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Shahdaroba
Where the Nile flows
And the moon glows
On the silent sand
Of an ancient land
When a dream dies
And the heart cries
Shahadaroba
Is the word they whisper low
Shahadaroba, Shahadaroba
Means the future
Is much better than the past
Shahadaroba, Shahadaroba
In the future
You will find a love that lasts
So when tears flow
And you don't know
What on earth to do
And your world is blue
When your dream dies
And your heart cries
Shahadaroba
Fate knows what's best for you
Shahadaroba, Shahadaroba
Face the future
And forget about the past
Shahadaroba, Shahadaroba
In the future
You will find a love that lasts
Shahadaroba
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Shahadaroba
Roy orbison
Where the nile flows
And the moon glows
On the silent sand
Of an ancient land
When a dream dies
And the heart cries
Shahadaroba
Is the word they whisper low
Shahadaroba, shahadaroba
Means the future
Is much better than the past
Shahadaroba, shahadaroba
In the future
You will find a love that lasts
So when tears flow
And you dont know
What on earth to do
And your world is blue
When your dream dies
And your heart cries
Shahadaroba
Fate knows whats best for you
Shahadaroba, shahadaroba
Face the future
And forget about the past
Shahadaroba, shahadaroba
In the future
You will find a love that lasts
Shahadaroba
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Niobe
How like the sky she bends above her child,
One with the great horizon of her pain!
No sob from our low seas where woe runs wild,
No weeping cloud, no momentary rain,
Can mar the heaven-high visage of her grief,
That frozen anguish, proud, majestic, dumb.
She stoops in pity above the labouring earth,
Knowing how fond, how brief
Is all its hope, past, present, and to come,
She stoops in pity, and yearns to assuage its dearth.
Through that fair face the whole dark universe
Speaks, as a thorn-tree speaks thro’ one white flower;
And all those wrenched Promethean souls that curse
The gods, but cannot die before their hour,
Find utterance in her beauty. That fair head
Bows over all earth’s graves. It was her cry
Men heard in Rama when the twisted ways
With children’s blood ran red.
Her silence towers to Silences on high;
And, in her face, the whole earth’s anguish prays.
It is the pity, the pity of human love
That strains her face, upturned to meet the doom,
And her deep bosom, like a snow-white dove
Frozen upon its nest, ne’er to resume
Its happy breathing o’er the golden brace
That she must shield till death. Death, death alone
Can break the anguished horror of that spell.
The sorrow on her face
Is sealed: the living flesh is turned to stone;
She knows all, all, that Life and Time can tell.
Ah, yet, her woman’s love, so vast, so tender,
Her woman’s body, hurt by every dart,
Braving the thunder, still, still hide the slender
Soft frightened child beneath her mighty heart.
She is all one mute immortal cry, one brief
Infinite pang of such victorious pain
That she transcends the heavens and bows them down!
The majesty of grief
Is hers, and her dominion must remain
Eternal. Grief alone can wear that crown.
poem by Alfred Noyes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Pleading For Mercy
In mercy, not in wrath, rebuke
Thy feeble worm, my God!
My spirit dreads thine angry look,
And trembles at thy rod.
Have mercy, Lord, for I am weak,
Regard my heavy groans;
O let thy voice of comfort speak,
And heal my broken bones!
By day my busy beating head
Is filled with anxious fears;
By night, upon my restless bed,
I weep a flood of tears.
Thus I sit desolate and mourn,
Mine eyes grow dull with grief;
How long, my Lord, ere thou return,
And bring my soul relief?
O come and show thy pow'r to save,
And spare my fainting breath;
For who can praise thee in the grave,
Or sing thy name in death?
Satan, my cruel envious foe,
Insults me in my pain;
He smiles to see me brought so low,
And tells me hope is vain,
But hence, thou enemy, depart!
Nor tempt me to despair;
My Saviour comes to cheer my heart,
The Lord has heard my prayer.
poem by John Newton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bitter-Sweet Memories
Sorrow played its melodies,
sometimes slow, sometimes fast,
happiness coming and passing,
Sorrows never long-lasting.
Until a day, like no other day,
a heart-stopping blow
reduced me to tears of unending
flow.
Sorrow knew no boundaries,
endless tears brought no relief,
but flourished in their salted grief.
As time went by,
Sorrow wore a gentler face,
a blameless one I could embrace.
Sometimes slow and achingly sad,
sometimes fast, brimming with joy,
Sorrow plays its bitter-sweet memories
of long-ago.
poem by Elke Nigro
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Signing the Pledge
Do you see this cup, this tempting cup,
Its sparkle and its glow?
I tell you this cup has brought to me
A world of shame and woe.
Do you see that woman sad and wan?
One day with joy and pride,
With orange blossoms in her hair,
I claimed her as my bride.
And vowed that I would faithful prove
Till death our lives should part;
I've drenched her soul with floods of grief,
And almost crushed her heart.
Do you see that grayp;haired mother bend
Beneath her weight of years?
I've filled that aged mother's eyes
With many bitter tears.
Year after year for me she prays,
And tries her child to save;
I've almost brought her gray hairs down
In sorrow to the grave.
Do you see that boy whose wistful eyes
Are gazing on my face?
I've overshadowed his young life
With sorrow and disgrace.
He used to greet me with a smile,
His heart was light and glad;
I've seen him tremble at my voice,
I've made that heart so sad.
Do you see this pledge I've signed to-night?
My mother, wife, and boy
Shall read my purpose on that pledge
And smile through tears of joy.
To know this night, this very night,
I cast the winep;cup down,
And from the dust of a sinful life
Lift up my manhood's crown.
The faded face of my young wife
With roses yet shall bloom,
And joy shall light my mother's eyes
On the margin of the tomb.
I have vowed top;night my only boy,
With brow so fair and mile,
Shall not be taunted on the streets,
And called a drunkard's child.
Never again shall that young face
Whiten with grief and dread,
Because I've madly staggered home
And sold for drink his bread.
This strong right arm unnerved by rum
Shall battle with my fate;
And peace and comfort crown the home
By drink made desolate.
Like a drowning man, tempestp;tossed,
Clings to a rocky ledge,
With trembling hands I've learned to grasp
The gospel and the pledge.
A captive bounding from my chain,
I've rent each hateful band,
And by the help of grace divine
A victor hope to stand.
poem by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Lady's Grave
THE linnet in the rocky dells,
The moor-lark in the air,
The bee among the heather bells
That hide my lady fair:
The wild deer browse above her breast;
The wild birds raise their brood;
And they, her smiles of love caress'd,
Have left her solitude!
I ween that when the grave's dark wall
Did first her form retain,
They thought their hearts could ne'er recall
The light of joy again.
They thought the tide of grief would flow
Uncheck'd through future years;
But where is all their anguish now,
And where are all their tears?
Well, let them fight for honour's breath,
Or pleasure's shade pursue--
The dweller in the land of death
Is changed and careless too.
And if their eyes should watch and weep
Till sorrow's source were dry,
She would not, in her tranquil sleep,
Return a single sigh!
Blow, west wind, by the lonely mound:
And murmur, summer streams!
There is no need of other sound
To soothe my lady's dreams
poem by Emily Brontë
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
A Worldly Death-Bed
Hush! speak in accents soft and low,
And treat with careful stealth
Thro’ that rich curtained room which tells
Of luxury and wealth;
Men of high science and of skill
Stand there with saddened brow,
Exchanging some low whispered words—
What can their art do now?
Follow their gaze to yonder couch
Where moans in fitful pain
The mistress of this splendid home,
With aching heart and brain.
The fever burning in her veins
Tinges with carmine bright
That sunken cheek—alas! she needs
No borrowed bloom to-night.
The masses of her raven hair
Fall down on either side
In tangled richness—it has been
Through life her care and pride;
And those small perfect hands on which
Her gaze complacent fell,
Now, clenched within her pillow’s lace,
Of anguish only tell.
Sad was her restless, fev’rish sleep,
More sad her waking still,
As with wild start she looks around
Her chamber darkened—still;
Its silence and the mournful looks
Of those who stand apart,
Some awful fear seem to suggest
To that poor worldly heart.
“Doctor, I’m better, am I not?”
She gasps with failing breath—
Alas! the answer sternly tells
That she is “ill to death.”
“What! dying!” and her eyes gleam forth
A flashing, fearful ray,
“I, young, rich, lovely, from this earth
To pass so soon away?
“No, no, it must not, cannot be,
Surely your skill can save—
Can stand between me and the gloom,
The horrors, of the grave!”
Breathless she listens, but no word
Breaks that dull pause of grief,—
Her pitying listeners turn away,
They cannot give relief
Tossing aloft, in fierce despair,
Her arms, with frenzied cry,
She gasps forth, “Save me—help, O help!
I must not, will not die.”
But One can grant that wild appeal,
Can stay her failing breath—
Of Him she never thought in life
Nor thinks she now in death.
Without one prayer, one contrite tear,
For past faults to atone—
For wasted talents, misspent life,
She’s gone before God’s throne!
Prying that wilful, wayward heart
That leaned on gods of clay,
For calmer, holier death than hers
With solemn heart we pray.
poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Song
The linnet in the rocky dells,
The moor - lark in the air,
The bee among the heather - bells
That hide my lady fair:
The wild deer browse above her breast;
The wild birds raise their brood;
And they, her smiles of love caressed,
Have left their solitude!
I ween, that when the grave's dark wall
Did first her form retain,
They thought their hearts could ne'er recall
The light of joy again.
They thought the tide of grief would flow
Unchecked through future years,
But where is all their anguish now,
And where are all their tears?
Well, let them fight for Honour's breath,
Or Pleasure's shade pursue -
The Dweller in the land of Death
Is changed and careless too.
And if their eyes should watch and weep
Till sorrow's source were dry
She would not, in her tranquil sleep,
Return a single sigh!
Blow, west wind, by the lonely mound,
And murmur, summer streams -
There is no need of other sound
To soothe my Lady's dreams.
poem by Emily Jane Brontë
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Lady's Grave
THE linnet in the rocky dells,
The moor-lark in the air,
The bee among the heather bells
That hide my lady fair:
The wild deer browse above her breast;
The wild birds raise their brood;
And they, her smiles of love caress'd,
Have left her solitude!
I ween that when the grave's dark wall
Did first her form retain,
They thought their hearts could ne'er recall
The light of joy again.
They thought the tide of grief would flow
Uncheck'd through future years;
But where is all their anguish now,
And where are all their tears?
Well, let them fight for honour's breath,
Or pleasure's shade pursue--
The dweller in the land of death
Is changed and careless too.
And if their eyes should watch and weep
Till sorrow's source were dry,
She would not, in her tranquil sleep,
Return a single sigh!
Blow, west wind, by the lonely mound:
And murmur, summer streams!
There is no need of other sound
To soothe my lady's dreams.
poem by Emily Jane Brontë
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Strange Wedding
Down the isle she walked
Clothed in white
Down in solitude
Weary she walked
Heavy the burdens
ached her heart
In her hand no boquet
For instead her a broken heart
Looked behind she did
Remebering the painful darkness
Of once past
Too many woes gotten deep
Too many sorrows born
Sins made
Slight pangs of remorse
Walked on did she
With a dimming hope
The final chance
Hunger she bore
Emptiness unfed
Upon the altar she knelt
With three preachers
One gave the vows
Though not ordinary
Humbly she oathed
The preacher said
Will you give your broken heart?
Hesitant at first
Her heart so fragile
Lovers past shattered it mercilessly
Again he asked
Willingly she obeyed
Handing over the shattered fragments
He holding with tender care
Mended it whole
Awestruck she was
He about to return it to her
She begged, ' as a token of gratitude and love, keept it.'
She knew the familiar face
And he gave a warm embrace
The light found, no more dark
Aches gone
Hope filled again
Mercy given
The past forgotten
Woes fled
Joy replaced sorrow
Thankful she was
Her hungry soul fed
This was no ordinary weddin'
Don't you see?
She gave away her heart
To the best lover of all
Never hunger again
Never alone again............
poem by Bella Ravenstar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Love, Dreaming of Death
I dreamt my little boys were dead
And I was sitting wild and lone;
On closed unmoving knees my head
Lay rigid as a stone.
And thus I sat without a tear,
And though I drew life’s painful breath,
All life to me seemed cold and drear,
And comfortless as death:
Sat on the earth as on a bier,
Where loss and ruin lived alone,
Without the comfort of a tear—
Without a passing groan.
And there was stillness everywhere,
Ensphering one wide sense of woe;
The stillness of a world’s despair,
Whose tides had ceased to flow.
Yea, so eternal seemed my grief,
Time moved out, neither slow nor fast,
Nor recked I whether periods brief
Or centuries had passed.
It was as if to marble cold
My loss had petrified the air,
And I was shut within its hold,
Made deathless by despair.
Made deathless in a world of death,
There ever sitting wild and lone,
With all but one pent painful breath
Transmutted into stone.
And more the gorgon horror crushed
With dry petrific pressure in,
Till forth my waking spirit rushed
With agonizing din!
And oh! What joy it was to wake—
To cast that haggard dream away,
And from its stony influence break
Into the living day!
I sought the objects of my care,
And felt, while I embraced the twain,
How much even from a dream’s despair
A father’s love may gain.
When this dream-record long ago
I penned, how little did I deem
That yet a distant coming woe
Was shadowed in its theme.
For ah! Of that beloved twain,
The lips of one, then warm with breath,
I since have kissed unkissed again,
For they were cold in death.
A swift wild death! And when I think
Of all that I have lost thereby,
My heart hath pangs that seem to drink
All Mara’s waters dry;
Yea, pangs that would my life destroy,
Did faith not whisper oft between:
“Peace! Sire of an immortal boy
Beyond this mortal scene.”
poem by Charles Harpur
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Echo Of Paradise Lost
Sorrow’s sadness tinges,
feathered fluttering soul
with mournful memories
of gleaned purity past.
As soul cries
through possessing use
of humility’s
harnessed heart.
I cloak hope
in a poet’s pitted shield
as I weave each line
to random rhyme.
Even as youth
we stand in our Eventide,
memories flooding
back instead of fading
away - as we walk
forward in dream’s eye.
For how can
the snail know
crawling about
in subdued slime.
With its burden
on its back,
that creation earth.
Stands a vast
height above him?
Man is trapped
like a slug
on a lettuce leaf
in the garden
of deceiving illusion.
I do not know
I have always known
I shall know again
as I knew before.
Many times have I seen...
multitude face of death.
Each time discerning death...
passed me serenely by.
It is not given
for you to die.
Not yet enfolded in
origin earth to lie.
A refreshing wind
must blow
across the face
of cursed land
carrying embryo
of reseeded thought.
For now is prophesy
ordained time of planting.
So catalyst toils
in field to bring,
irrigating waters,
murmuring flow
to parched soil.
Before warm
breath whispered
on siren wind.
Hours are long
in this world
of shadows.
Scars run deep
of many wounds
I bare
on body
of my soul.
Yet even great pain
crumbles broken perishes
like sun bleached dry bones
till pain receding slowly fades.
Weathered with relentless time
or succumbs at sin sentenced grave.
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Your World
The warmest day of all my life
You came to me, I held you in my hands
And something changed forever
I want you for a better time
To know the beauty of our Mother Earth
Cherish her forever
Never felt in such a hurry
So little time, so much to do
I lie awake and dream the dreams I'll share with you
This is your world now
No one can chase all your fears away
This is your world now
Trust in your heart to lead the way
I still recall a day so clear
I saw the future in my mother's eyes
Filled with tears of sorrow
The years roll by, the times do change
The truth around us harder to disguise
As we face tomorrow
So many promises were made me
So little hope remains alive
I only pray the dreams I leave you will survive
This is your world now
No one can chase all your fears away
Fight for your world now
Trust in your heart to find the way
You'll see what I'm saying / When you're on your own
The war that you're facing / Isn't yours alone
I am a man in search of reasons
Though I am still as much to blame
It's up to me to leave you more than just my name
This is your world now
No one can chase all your fears away
Fight for your world now
Trust in your heart to lead the way
This is your world now
I want to chase all your fears away
Fight for your world now
I know that somehow you'll find your way
song performed by by Richard Marx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Silent Tears
What bitter sorrow courses down
Yon mourner’s faded cheek?
Those scalding drops betray a grief
Within, too full to speak.
Outspoken words cannot express
The pangs, the pains of years;
They’re ne’er so deep or eloquent
As are those silent tears.
Here is a wound that in the breast
Must canker, hid’n from sight;
Though all without seems sunny day,
Within ’Tis ever night.
Yet sometimes from this secret source
The gloomy truth appears;
The wind’s dark dungeon must have vent
If but in silent tears.
The world may deem from outward looks
That heart is hard and cold;
But oh! could they the mantle lift
What sorrows would be told!
Then, only then, the truth would show
Which most the bosom sears:
The pain portrayed by burning words
Or that by—silent tears.
poem by Henry Kendall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Song
The linnet in the rocky dells,
The moor-lark in the air,
The bee among the heather bells
That hide my lady fair:
The wild deer browse above her breast;
The wild birds raise their brood;
And they, her smiles of love caressed,
Have left her solitude!
I ween, that when the grave's dark wall
Did first her form retain,
They thought their hearts could ne'er recall
The light of joy again.
They thought the tide of grief would flow
Unchecked through future years;
But where is all their anguish now,
And where are all their tears?
Well, let them fight for honour's breath,
Or pleasure's shade pursue—
The dweller in the land of death
Is changed and careless too.
And, if their eyes should watch and weep
Till sorrow's source were dry,
She would not, in her tranquil sleep,
Return a single sigh!
Blow, west-wind, by the lonely mound,
And murmur, summer-streams—
There is no need of other sound
To soothe my lady's dreams.
poem by Emily Brontë from Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (1846)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
To Live Beyond The Edge Of Hope
To live beyond the edge of hope
Is to dangle daily from a rope
In a perpetual dance with death itself
Beyond this world and all its wealth
There is a world of blue and green
But to the dark eye its all unseen
A world of orange, red and yellow too
But from the rope its beyond all view
For from the rope there's shades of grey
And sleepless nights and endless days
And every now and then some light
But just enough to confirm the night
There was a time I dangled from this rope
At the edge of hell and beyond all hope
I lived my life, just hanging there
Crushed and broken, suspended in the air
Then Jesus came and cut me down
He raised me up to wear a crown
A pauper raised to walk with kings
A voicless man but now who sings
Of all the glories of the Lord
Who came with Word and deed and sword
And conquered hell and death and sin
Restoring joy and hope within
Now all the world is bright to me
No matter what my eyes can see
No longer dangling from the rope
I walk with Jesus, I walk with hope
And above the clouds I know its true
The sun shines bright and the sky is blue
And when a shaft of light appears
It warms my heart and quells my fears
Now if your dangling from that rope
And this lie cries out, 'there is no hope'
Cry out to the one who can cut you down
He will raise you up and you will wear a crown!
poem by Frank McEleny
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!