Ways of providence

There will surely be a guide ~ charting my path, protecting, and leading me to my destined destination in life. As if it were a promised payment God made to me from heaven. A visible hand tucked out from an invisible tucker, In a canoe on a river ~ gently rowing me along its flow. Many near-deaths averted, Many of life's debts miraculously paid, many stale breaths, yet never for a moment ceased. All threats to my existence – God canceled them, sometimes with my sweat, other times with just a little fret. Yet still, I never got my feet wet or smelly, even when I trudged through the sludge left behind by life's avarice; not a faint trace of the caprice that clouds my destined destination. There has to be only one explanation ~ providence, not merely serendipity, For I can see the hands of the I Am That I Am, whispering their ubiquity, through a tiny voice – often feeble, yet ably affable, I am cognisant of its presence, especially when I disobey its warnings. All these are never through kismet or fortuity ~ they are simply the ways of providence. Case closed.