Path Through The Wood

A path through the wood, not easy to tread.
Not all of those steps, are quite filled with dread
round ev'ry corner a new scape to see,
breath taking beauty, or dark and dreary.


Whatever the scene I don't tread alone,
for God is The Way and He'll lead me Home.
Though i choose the path, my step He'll guide,
in times of confusion in Him I'll hide.


so stand tall you trees, grow thick you ferns
cover up the path, whilst my heart yearns,
for my sweet saviour so i can see
the path through the wood as it's meant to be

Cupped Hands

Thirty two thousand men
an army of great striking
Ten thousand then were left
Too many for Gods liking

He took them for a drink
The kneelers and the lappers
thinned down to three hundred
Crack troops surely the sappers

Three groups of a hundred
carrying lamps and trumpets
the enemy confused
no time for toast or crumpets

they turned upon each other
killing without mercy
cupped hands missed all the fun
I s'pose they are still thirsty

don't need a big army when God gives you the enemy

Just A Pair Of Shoes

Just a pair of shoes
standing empty, still,
waiting for the moment
to do the masters will.

To take him where he needs to go
To ease the pounding pavements flow
protect his feet so he will know
the comfort I can give.

but if he chooses now to wear
some other fancy, newer pair,
I’ll rest a while and not despair
then when he uses me, I’ll live.

Summer day

When I to morning chorus wake,
breathe deep as if my thirst to slake,
soar high upon melodious trill
escaping from the blackbirds’ bill.


Take in the sparrows’ cheerful chirp,
the raucous crows’ verbal smirk,
wood pigeons’ coo, as if to mock
the doodle doo of yonder cock.


Then to the window, open wide,
breathe Summers air, oh so alive.
I praise my God, for it is He
who causes Summer days to be.

with thanks to Hannah and Donna at CW