The future looms, a scary place.
It seems to me a hole.
A cavern, yes, but lit with grace.
I cross with anxious soul.
Not conquered in a sprinting race,
Nor crossed in one big leap.
A bridge is there, made all from grace,
His mercies span the deep.
He bids us all, “Do not fret,
Nor live in panic-sore.”
Through each trial and all unknown,
He whispers, “One step more.”
If I look past this present spot
My hand grasps on the rope.
I miss the moment- mercy bought,
Designed to bring me hope.
Sometimes the knot is nature borne:
A cloud, the sea, a breeze.
Often times, a page well worn
From Scripture’s wealth I seize.
Other times, a friend will pray,
And intercede for me.
Or an author from a distant day
Wrote words that set me free.
The gap between each mercy
Can strain one’s faith in more.
Why isn’t trusting easy,
When I clutched the ones before?
Grasp this rope of mercies wrought.
Trust it will hold fast.
With His own blood the bridge was bought,
The chasm will be passed.