The Lord's Love

When the roses are in bloom
And by wonder we are overwhelmed,
This is the beauty of the Lord's great Love,
A gift from His own realm.

When birds fly by in chorus
And we can't help but sing along,
Our spirit lifted to the heights of heaven,
This is love, where we belong.

E'en when the moonlight's shining overhead
And the dark of night descends,
Still comes the touch of God's enduring Love,
Our lonesome heart to tend.

When winds blow hard and shutters shake,
Blowing every peaceful joy away,
'Tis then the Presence of the Lord,
Becomes our strength and stay.

When depths of sorrow strike, to overtake
Tearing tender hearts apart,
The Lord, always reaches forth His Hand,
His soft comfort to impart.

Or when words are spoken, harsh and cruel
And days are bent in grief,
The Lord yet understands and comes,
With whispers, kind and sweet.

Or when days of life become confusing,
With many unknown twists and turns,
The Lord's promises remain the same,
And will always stand us firm.

Whatever ruthless blaze of heat is raging,
With no respite to be found,
The Savior ever comes to wash our soul,
And cool our fevered brow.

And if fear has gripped, our spirit ripped
With chill, right to the bone,
Our Father wraps us in His arms,
And there, is our warm home.

Thus covered, safe, in blissful calm,
So blessed beyond belief,
Our Jesus understands our hearts,
At rest in His bequeath.

There sitting in His garden, hushed
And feeling Him so near,
His Love, close, all around, before,
In Him the way is clear.

So when thoughts about tomorrow come
All pondering on our death,
Jesus says, Be still, My Love is yours dear child,
For you, I died, I wept....
In Me,
you're ever kept.

Soft whispers from
Derry's Heart Poems © August 2009
heartwhispers@iinet.net.au
Poetry from the Heart

The love of God is greater far
Than tongue or pen can ever tell;
It goes beyond the highest star,
And reaches to the lowest hell;
Could we with ink the ocean fill,
And were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
And every man a scribe by trade,
To write the love of God above,
Would drain the ocean dry.
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
Though stretched from sky to sky.
O love of God, how rich and pure!
How measureless and strong!
It shall forevermore endure
The saints’ and angels’ song.
~Frederick M. Lehman, 1917~