 “Where is God?” I hear the cry.
How can it be that people can suffer so much?
As this disease takes over their lives
And bodies
Until they die.
“Where is God
In this troubled world?”
As earthquakes strike at the heart of cities
towns or remote mountain village
Waves lash coasts in fury unfurled.
“Where is God?”
I hear the cry,
As killing and the wars go on
As the cyclist is hit by the bus
The young child dies
Bombs maim and kill as they fly.
 God is in the face of the nurse As she patiently tends to our needs,
In the hands of the surgeon ,
The skills of the teams
As they strive to find cures.
God is in the lonely hours of the morning,
In the clouds scudding across the moonlit sky,
In the Celtic ruins, the stones of the saints,
In the hills, as they stand majestic immovable,
The presence is strong and we never say why.
God is at the side of the stony path,
Though we cannot always see or meet
We strive for the summit but how far off as
One peak is reached and in front of us another one looms
And all we feel are the stones at our feet
God is in the people we meet,
The hands we hold and the tears we share.
He is deep in our hearts.
If you pause,
You will find him there. |
