Colin F. Jones
~ 1 ~
It is always as we bask in summer sun
That spiteful winter brings a freezing day.
That we are fooled by hope as something won,
For joy is but allowed a brief allay.
This is God’s world; He made the Seasons so.
For how, indeed, could life unfold without
A structure thus that brings us sun and snow
And wets a moment where there is a drought?
God gives no life that does not draw on hope.
Thus, by this form, directs our pleas to him.
For with life’s burdens we will never cope
Lest we believe that we were born to sin.
Though we do strive to mend each other’s pain
The Lord, He offers death to reap our gain.
~ 2 ~
It is the perfect power we do tend
That gives us hope of life when we depart.
For nothing that we own can we defend;
For ownership lasts briefly in our hearts.
What power is this we give unto the Lord
Who lives inside our minds, but yet unseen;
The master of our fear of death’s cruel sword
Who holds us to our faith by this demean.
For where is God when little babies die;
When young men die in savage acts of war?
Why did He shape the human brain to lie,
And make the rich the masters of the poor?
I see not here, a Saviour who is kind;
Though yet I seek that I may one day find.
©Copyright May 14, 2001 by Colin F. Jones