Count it Gain

The trials of life consume and burn,
Worry and pain, each in their turn.
Until it seems that nothing's left,
Of hope and joy we are bereft.

The winds of time blow straight and strong,
The branches bare, and before long;
The children's laughter is in the past,
And still the wearied must hold fast.

Without the promise of His word,
This life indeed would be absurd;
But God is faithful, God is true,
All things at last will be made new.

So laugh at age and smile at death;
Measure the city, its length and breadth.
Lift up your head, see through the pain,
Defy the sorrow, count it gain.

This poem won first place for the November 2024 poetry contest

Book by Kevin Smead

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