The Old Rugged Bridge Poem by Adam M Snow

I crossed a bridge one day.
It was old, splintered and weathered.
Traveling upon it left me dismayed,
seeing planks beneath my feet untethered.

How fearful was I upon this bridge;
shaking, the wood still rotting.
To cross it gets me to the other ridge,
where I'm heading, safely trotting.

Some boards beneath my feet gave way.
By miracle, or by chance some how,
upon this bridge my feet still stayed;
while I, overwhelmed with sweat upon my brow.

This bridge indeed goes on for miles,
and each step I take, I suffer a bit more.
How much longer must I endure these trials?
My body's aching, shaking and sore.

I'm hanging on. Oh, yes I'm hanging on,
as my burden bears much weight.
I see some planks before me gone,
but a still small voice keeps me moving straight.

I looked down upon my feet;
shame overwhelming, the feeling of doubt.
This bridge surely has me beat.
I long for a way out.

I lost hope and faith along the way.
I'm about to give, this bridge is long.
In the midst I see clear as day,
as my heart now filled with songs.

An outstretched hand with a scar,
reaching out for me to grab.
Upon this bridge, I've traveled far.
I was weary, no more dull or drab.

I grab that hand, I know who it belongs.
I am hopeful, my faith restored again.
My life is singing brand new songs,
as I gaze upon his face, this man.

The feeling of joy upon my face,
I realize my journey's done.
It is by His unfailing grace,
that my treacherous battles are won.

The bridge I crossed, a frightful one indeed,
but the journey upon it reflects my life.
It opened my eyes to what I really need,
the purist love, freedom from my sinful strife.

I look back upon that bridge,
amazed was I to see it made new.
Here I stood on the other ridge,
with my friend, the King of Jews.