Historical Fiction



Storms of life bring darkness, fear—

Clouds of rain with foggy drear.

Thunder cracks and lightning flashes;

Dark with light in fury clashes.

Anger breathes its stale, hot breath,

Bitterness grips the hold of death.

Pain and grief in cold gales blow,

Tears are spent in deepest woe.

Through the swirling wind and rain

A bolt of light shows clear and plain

An object raised above sodden moss,

A mark of shame—a wooden cross.

Guilt grinds with wincing sound of lash,

All sins in brutal horror flash.

Upon the cross is put the One

Who no wrong has ever done.

“It’s finished!” comes winging o’er the heath

And with the cry comes sweet relief.

Innocence takes place of shame,

Placing upon Him all the blame.

He paid to ransom once for all

Those forsaken in the Fall,

If they in faith will just believe

A full forgiveness they’ll receive.

The clouds disperse and sunlight gleams;

Drops fall like tears from wooden beams.

It is love like this that brings release,

And fills our hearts with purest peace.

Published by T.R.Q.T

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