Now Shalt Thou See

Inspired by Exodus 6:1

“Now shalt thou see what I will do,
Now shall my word prevail,
Now will I show my outstretched hand,
My promise I’ll reveal.

That which I showed you in the dark
When all was cold and night,
I shall work wonders and fulfill
Within thy longing sight.”

I heard His voice assuring me.
Yet, as I looked ahead,
The night grew only darker
In the valley that I tread.

The wind blew only harsher,
As the tempest whirled and tossed,
The promise He had spoken
Seemed to me as vague and lost.

Instead of freedom—heavy loads;
Instead if healing—pain;
Instead of answers—wondering,
Confusion, scorn, and blame.

Yet in the quiet of the hour
I found a message told,
That after I was purified
I would come forth as gold.

This season of uncertainty
Is needful unto me,
To strengthen, yet, my trust in Him—
So trying though it be.

Unto the heathen world is shown
The power of His hand,
As I am led through vale and woe
Into the Promised Land.

He knoweth every desert that
Beyond abundance lays,
He sees each trial following
The triumphs of the day,

Temptations strong, He knoweth them
And how they try our trust,
As well as every faltering that
Hinders faith and rest.

Indeed, He knows that for His child
To relish joyfully,
The blessing that He will bestow,
To hold them gratefully--

Ah, yes! But for His precious child
To deeply understand
The beauty of the promise kept,
The goodness of His plan,

To richly know the splendor
Of the light he’ll gaze upon,
Then, it must needs be darkest just
Before the brake of dawn.

Yea, He knows that for His child—
So fickle as he is—
To know for certainty “The hand
Of God is working this”, 

Then, such a season is required—
A seed, at first, must die;
For, just before the daybreak is
The darkest hour of night.

Copyright © Elisabeth Linzey 2016


Together, In the Race

                                        The race was long and treacherous,
The blazing sun stood high,
The masses pressed along the bend
To view the runner nigh.

With every step, his pounding heart
Pulsed only for the goal,
No fellow caught his steadfast gaze—
He ran with strength and soul.

Amidst the crowded throng, a man
Regarded every move,
His eye filled with a father’s care,
His courage it behooved.

Then, suddenly, a gasp arose,
The mighty now was fallen!
The faces that were filled with joy
Now gazed on, grave and sullen.

Bursting from the stands, one dashed
To his beloved’s side,
Urging with a father’s love
He bade his son resign.

But, through the pain and agony,
The wounded son replied,
“I cannot quit! I will not quit!
I’ll cross the finish line.”

Then lifting up the fallen,
The father held his son—
And arm in arm, step by step,
The two continued on.

Together, to the finish line,
Together in the race,
Supported by his father’s hand,
The faithful set his face.

  Captured by the tender sight
The crowd watched breathlessly,
Then, broke forth wild in applause
As they crossed victoriously.

Not to the swift, nor yet the strong,
Is life’s compelling race,
But to the faithful, though cast down,
Who keep a steady pace.

Yet, e’re the runner meets the ground,
The Father comes along,
And, lifting up His fallen one,
Restores the triumph song.

Holding fast His weary one--
Supported by His grace--
Together, they press onward,
Together, win the race.

Copyright © Elisabeth Linzey 2016