Waiting on the Lord,

Clinging to this keyboard,

Playing the “how long psalm” in my head.

 

Where does my help come from?

So obvious that it’s Him once again

And yet the troubles trouble on.

 

“God is not Santa Claus,”

I once wrote a fellow sufferer, or

One who hands us our lottery happiness ticket.

 

The Lord knows no boundary of time

So our journey must not be measured so

Lest we push ourselves out of His perfect plan.

 

For if we take the reigns

And steer off course by will

We may never see His glorious promise revealed.

 

He will never leave us or forsake us.

He is with us now and til the end.

His mercies renew and He graces us with abundantly more.

 

Humbly shall I remain

Waiting on my Lord with open eyes

For His return in glory:  it will be soon.

 

And on that day I know I will be glad for all.