The cries of true religion beckon us,
Yet grief and tears cloud all the time with pain That only grows and stays: it does not wane Within the cloudy night obscured. Unless From God's own sovereign hand this were a test To strengthen us, through three-fold trial constrain The flesh, I could not find this dying gain, Nor by the Spirit say His way is best For us. For nowhere else to turn we find, No other way so sure as suff'ring through The pain of widows, orphans; though inclined I am to help some easy way and do The lowly good without the grief of mind And heart, yet grief has made Him lowly, too.
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Michael Price - I am a husband, father, poet, and science teacher at a classical Christian school in Memphis, TN. I have two volumes of poetry and one coming early 2024! New book coming in 2024!
Dissent with Modification: Poems Against COVIDism, Darwinism, and Wokeism Archives
January 2024
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