COMFORT
People we know had loved ones leave.
A neighbour friend had a fiancée
Who decided she could no longer stay.
Friends with a son who was terminally ill
Mourn his passing and miss him so much until,
As their faith informs them with honest hope
To see him again, they continue to cope.
A husband we know spent Thanksgiving
without
His wife whose virtues he spoke about
Often through years when they served with
love,
She waits now for him with Christ above.
The commodity, Comfort, in short supply
Impossible to feign, manufacture or buy.
Grief as heavy as it can possibly be,
Still heard, the master says, "Come
unto Me."
© Ron Unruh
No comments:
Post a Comment