Prize

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All hope is not lost,

the sun will rise again,

in the morning,

a golden path

across the wailing storm.

The gleam is blinding

in it’s brilliant glory,

but we shall be given new eyes,

to see the prize beyond the rays.

Take my hand and we’ll go together,

I wish to also see His face,

look! see there, He is shining like the sun,

calling both us home.

The gleam is blinding,

in His brilliant rays,

we have been given new eyes,

I see the prize amidst His rays.

~Elizabeth Baillie

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2 Comments Add yours

  1. Scarlet says:

    This poem is encouraging and true! Thank you!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. You’re welcome! Thank you!

      Like

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