Poetry
Poetry by Warren Rogers
Liberty
I groaned within-this thing called death-
Just waiting for the Holy Breath
That makes me live or I should die
Captive to a fashioned lie.
Burdened down by earthly care,
I searched for God and found Him where?
Not within the thoughts of mind
Or doctrines here of any kind.
But in the midst of dark despair,
I heard Him say, "You know I care."
All around I could not see,
But sensed His love was just for me.
The sting of death that came by sin
I've not been asked to face again.
His tender Love—oh sweet relief,
Within its care I find no grief.
No lonely burdens must I bear,
The Savior's heart now wills to share.
He lifts the load—I can stand straight,
No longer struggle beneath its weight.
My yoke is easy—my burdens light.
I rest in God, I know He's right.