Weary
I would walk on, and leave it all be-
Hind: will walk on; and when my feet grow
Sore, the boatman waits—his sails are all
Unfurled—he waits to row me to a
Fairer shore. My tired limbs shall rest on
Beds of down, my tears shall all be wiped
By Jesus’ hand; my soul shall know the
Peace it long hath sought—a peace too
Wonderful—ever to understand
Copyright © Paul Geiger | Year Posted 2014
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment