Pilgrim's Path Daily

Monday, June 19, 2006

DAILY POEM

"When the frosts are in the valley, and the mountaintops are grey;
And the choicest buds are blighted, and the blossoms die away;
A loving Father whispers, 'This cometh from My hand;'
Blessed are ye if ye trust - where ye cannot understand!

"If, after years of toiling, your health should fly away;
And leave your hands all empty, and your locks are turning grey;
Remember then your Father owns all the sea and land;
Blessed are ye if ye trust - where ye cannot understand!"

-- Anonomous

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