On A Lonely Hill
On a lonely hill I stood alone
Against a mourning sky,
In a grief-filled world I’d never known
With none to hear my cry.
Racked with pain, heart-broken, ill,
I stood alone with my loss,
Till it seemed I saw another hill
And a man on a cruel cross.
He, too, had stood on a lonely hill
In pain that would not cease,
And I heard Him say, “My child, be still,
I give to you My peace.”
“Not as the world gives, do I give -
The world may not understand -
But I say unto you that you can live
With this grief - if you take My hand.”
I came down out of the lonely hill,
And my sorrow found release -
My hand in His, my will His will,
And my heart His peace.
Author
( Helen Lowrie Marshall )
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