Oh my, but what a strange journey this is.
I'd say it's like a light upon my feet
And a lamp unto my path. All of this
Just laid out like some stale old pile of books
On banquet tables at a local swap meet.
Try as I might to work the endless line,
I find that Spirit is a step ahead;
He's making steps for me; he chooses all
My paths and then so patiently awaits
For my weak understanding to accept.
The times I struggle most are those times when
I come up to a foe already down.
Each step I take I see there something new
That's being lit up bright by Providence
And saying, "No, no resting here. Go on."
And Spirit waits for me to choose the path
He's on. The struggles I envision are
Already met, and just so as long as I
Remember that the victory is now
Already won, well then I guess it is.
I'm sitting down here near the riverside
And contemplating all that I have seen
All He has shown, the light that shines in darkness
The Word that has become flesh, as it should
And breathed, And moved into the neighbourhood.
