What thousand never knew the road!
What thousands hate it when 'tis known!
None but the chosen tribes of God
Will seek it or choose it for their own.
A thousand ways in ruin end,
One only leads to joys on high;
By that my willing steps ascend,
Pleased with a journey to the sky.
No more I ask or hope to find
Delight or happiness below;
Sorrow may well possess the mind
That feeds where thorns and thistles grow.
The joy that faces is not for me,
I seek immortal joys above;
There glory without end shall be
The bright reward of faith and love.
Cleaved to the world, ye sordid worms,
Contented lick your native dust!
But God shall fight with all his storms,
Against the idol of your trust.
- William Cowper poemhunter.com
I saved this poem for today, because I love the subject - trust. The last quantrain is powerful. I often renege the trust I place in God, because I forget who he is. He is always faithful --even when my faith is at the end of its tether. That's another reason why, He is God, I am not and why it is all about Him and not... yeah.
"Peace, be Still." He reveals to us his character through the storms.