The Hope to rise again
The path I'm treading on I know not where it leads. It hurts, it pains. Still I go on. My heart and soul go weary. I cry aloud to vent the hurt. Who doth understand a heart? Nor a bosom bud or kin, Who had known you for years. No man do I turn to. In my darkest hour I cry out, to the One who knows a man's heart. Dear Lord, Why should I take this road? I ask with my heart still broken. Like a potter moulding the clay So am I moulding you, my dear You may break, be hurt But you are always in my hands. With this Hope I rise again to walk the miles that lay ahead.