It’s much too late to lift my voice
And sing a song of praise,
Though, I’ve had many joyful lights
In these past darkened days,
I don’t believe I understand,
For ours are not your ways,
And you see clearly what’s ahead
While I see through a haze
Of pain and fear and sorrow which
Becomes a whirling maze
That I’m not sure I’ll make it through…
And then I meet your gaze
And after all it’s not too late
To lift my voice in praise!
No comments:
Post a Comment