Diane Marie - June 2008
The soul of the wounded calls for help,
and God does not regard it as foolish.
(Job 24:12) Rotherham
A small speck on the ground,
Hidden near a dark rock,
Was not seen by those who passed by.
Then the Lord up above,
While gazing down in love,
Caught His breath as He heard a slight cry.
In the silence that followed,
As His eye searched the earth
The sun stirred e’er so slight in the sky.
For a fraction of a second
A brilliant sparkle of light,
Was gone again in the blink of an eye.
But, God saw that reflection
And He recognized me,
For He loved me enough to die.
I am that sparkle to God
That, in itself, is enough
Through hope in Him, I continue to try.
“Refined Silver”, He calls me,
“More precious than gold”
Those are blessings that no one can buy.
When the soul of one wounded
Called out for God’s peace
The Holy Spirit came forth with a sigh
He did not count it as foolish
When He heard that small voice;
With consolation and joy, He drew nigh.