Psalm 3 Poem by Cleveland W. Gibson

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.