A thicket sprouts
with bramble sharp
encroaching fast around the heart
It strangles there
my every joy
and weak I am to halt its ploy
There is no front
but calm within
to hack its thorns and rout the din
So
when striving ebbs
by Eloi’s grace
the mind grows dim and slows its pace
All murmurs gone
like unto smoke
his comfort stirs and dons the yoke
A burden light
is shouldered then
Some gentle load brings rest within
Come unto me
spake once the Lord
The deeps of pain, I’ll see you ford
ScrutinyInFaith 