Lord, my enemies now are more
than I remember once before.
Then again what of my soul you see?
I ask can it be any good to thee?
What can I say Lord? Words I often cry,
when it is you who lifts my spirits up high.
Listen, my cry to the Lord, heard on His hill,
Oh beautiful feeling. Oh comforting thrill.
Whenever I rested I awoke refreshed as new, because the wonder of God helped me through.
Thousands of enemies can't give me a fright,
as the Lord can strike them with such might.
So Lord. You bring good things to me,
and leave behind blessings for all to see.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem