Logic of sorts does not it explain
From pride and calumny though we stay
God alone must all the time attain
Our deepest affections when we pray
Innocents fall dead at guilty hands
Bribed mouths are mum to bitter truth
We do not know why He folds His hands
But to berate Him would be uncouth
The rich will get all the richer still
I go on keeping poverty kin
Who am I to quiz the divine will
That would very likely be a sin
So my sorrow must be respectful
I must cry and yet say I love God
I cannot understand it in full
But my pastor insists that God is God.
I guess that will always be the answer to life's difficult questions? Excellent poem! Brian
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
god is god? if you say so