The Cry of a Wounded Heart!


When I was a child, I thought as a child
And did not understand
That God ordained all things to be;
They all passed through His hand.

I did not know His love held me
In spite of all the pain,
And some day He would use these things:
My loss would be great gain.

Abandoned.  All alone, I cried,
Frightened in the dark.
'God must not care that I exist.'
Satan's arrows hit their mark.

And when I came to know my Lord,
I did not give my heart
In unreserved and joyful praise.
I withheld the broken part.

'He could not love that part of me;
He was not there to save.'
My thoughts made sense to the little girl,
But they sent me to a cave.

And it was frightening and dark
And I felt so alone.
No light could pierce the inky gloom.
No hope entered this zone.

I stopped my ears, for I could hear
The beating of my heart.
I could no longer cry
For the sobs tore me apart.

And still He waited, holding tight
To all that I would give;
And spoke His gentle, loving words
Entreating  me to live.

Until one day, I heard that Voice
Above the thundering din
Of all the enemy had said.
'Oh yes, my Lord.  You win.'

Now I am grown, I must not let
That little child tell me
That You're  not here to take my hand.
I must believe and be set free.

Lord, take that little child
And hold her closely to your Breast.
Help her to understand
That Your way is always best.

You were there upon the Cross
To help her  bear the pain;
And You shed tears for her each time
The stripes on You were lain.

Your love covered every grief
And filled the darkest night;
And Your song kept her heart alive
And filled her days with light.

Help her to thank You, now, Oh Lord,
And give it all to You.
Take that broken heart and heal;
For You make all things new.

        ...by Gayleen, a friend of The Well! 
 7/8/97

Copyright by Gayleen Moody. All rights reserved.

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