Seasons Of Languish, Mornings Of Dance

There are those seasons when life is harsh,
And refuses to grant us success,
Instead it withholds, and obstructs, and says no,
Even though we plead with our best.

But too, are the glorious gifting days
When answers flow like a stream,
When solutions long sought are finally caught,
And at last - We can dance the dream!

     P. Davis

Experience

Frightening lightening and ranting rain,
We run from the clouds and the storm.
But when the noise has come and gone,
In freshness, the land is reborn.

And so are we, truth be known,
By the storms of life along the way.
Something happens in the fear of it all -
Our fears are washed away.

And we're born anew, much improved.
We've survived and overcome.
And in that freshness, we spring again
Now to find -
We've become much more than our sum.

     P. Davis

The Plan

I have a plan and the plan is good.
And I'm excited by all that it holds.
But then I have to work the plan,
And fit myself to its mold.

This part is hard. And I'm often bored.
And I wonder why I even started.
Before you know it, my knees are weak,
And all my resolve, departed.

But then I hear God's Spirit speak,
The words that I know to be true,
"In your patience you possess your soul.
Work the plan; and the plan will work for you."

     P. Davis

The Flowers Of Truth

On considering the privilege of access to God's truth 

 

We walk in the secret garden of God, 

 A holy and hidden place. 

Yet here we walk - without restraint 

 As a privilege of His grace. 

 We rest among the flowers of truth 

 That for men of every age 

Have yielded the fragrance of knowledge 

And enlightened the eyes of the sage. 

Oh! can it be that we're really here, 

And allowed here every day, 

To handle these lovely, living truths 

As a child consumed in play. 

Thank you, Lord, for privilege bought,  

Which now, we take for granted 

And think it normal every day 

To smell these flowers you've planted.

     P. Davis