In the fiery furnace
That I was thrown,
To die, burn, forgotten,
His ancient words came
And spoke me out!
While I swam in the quicksand
Drowning on my own,
Alienated from help,
With open arms, His love
Grabbed hold of me!
I stretched out my hands
To be saved from the tide
That was carrying me away,
Lo He came and just He
And set me upon a rock!
Now I'm filled with sure
That though storms may arise,
And drought can hit,
Still I can't be desolate
For He is always my help!
Hezekiah Tiamiyu
©PenKiah
27-05-16/02: 30pm
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem