The Hope of My Heart
By Katherine B. Parilli
Oh my tired bones,
How they ache with a numbing pain.
My beating heart does race and pause,
Worn with the heavy of worldly frights.
My body young in years,
Is ridden down by hunger and constant toil.
For this is the plight of all who trod this sinful soil.
Upon this sin tainted earth to despairingly eek and wearily groan.
But my hope is not built upon swaying trees,
My rock’s foundation is not buried in melting oil.
The hope of my heart,
The balm of my bleeding hands,
Comes not from withering vain swiveling blades,
That instantly fades under the blistering heat of the noonday sun.
Though my eyes do fail,
My feet do stumble,
And my tendons seek to slip from their appointed niche,
I trustingly lift my blinded eyes towards Heaven’s sky.
In the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob,
In the God of laughter,
The God of promise,
Who will supplant the evil’s short lived reign of glory with the peaceful cries of His grateful children,
I place my total trust.
Knowing that even as the mountains fall,
The tidal wave towers,
And the fire rages,
In His all-powerful hand I am secure.
By His power I shall ride safely upon the crest of the furious wave.
My soul secure form the lion’s angry roar,
And if in death’s cold arms I should one day slumber,
I trust that someday,
If faithful I do prove,
My watchful Lord my dusty body to raise,
As His triumphant son thunders through every darkened cavern seeking the once closed ears of all His sleeping children.
And in that day,
In that very moment,
My body shall cease to ache,
My sin blind eyes will once more see,
My Lord in the clearness of the noonday sun.
Triumphant over sin,
Bound by unbreakable chords of love to my unselfish Redeemer,
I shall stand unashamed before my blessed King.
Clothed in the wondrous robes of eternal youth,
At last an unblemished reflection of His glory,
I will rejoice in His holy mountain.
And as eternal day follows in ceaseless succession I shall forget the fearful pain of this fleeting moment.
Though the armies of the nation should have encamped in eager strive about my toothpick earthly door,
I shall soon forget its frightful horror as I behold that smiling face.
In the glistening eyes of my Redeemer the pain of my tears shall be wiped away.
In His wounded hands my bleeding sores will be healed.
In His bruised heart,
Broken for my sins,
My soul is transformed.
And by His unselfish sacrifice,
By His undeserving death I am given eternal life.
So let the Devil’s kingdom roar.
Let my sin weary body ache.
For in that hour,
That precious hour He filled my soul,
The old child died,
And a new creation was born.
Lost in the promise of eternal love,
Worn-out by a sacrifice too large for humans’ greatest minds to ever comprehend.
The ceaseless ages will only brighten the feeble rays of love which once pierced my sin dead soul.
And in the cross,
That holy horror upon which men love to folly,
My heart shall dwell.
Its sacred story shall be my endless study,
For I know that it is my only cure,
The only sure antivenin to save my dying soul.