As we wind
Our tortured way
Along the darkened
path,
We fret and worry
About the future,
What lies in wait
In the dark
Ahead of us.
We cry aloud
Asking, begging
To be told
What snares and traps
Are there
In the dark.
But though we cry
quite loud,
There seems no
answer,
No one to tell
What lies ahead.
But yet,
When we stumble
And almost fall,
There is a hand to help,
To hold us up
And guide us
Around
All the unseen traps
That are along the
path.
And then we stop to
look
To see our guide,
We find God standing
there.
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