The Pause
There is a steadiness in my feet,
a hard thudding upon the dry ground,
relentless and unhindered they go
behind the One who goes just before,
the One whose feet never hesitate
but go hard toward the waiting hill.
My eyes see but Him and not the hill
lest these feet should shirk the holy way
of abandonment to the Father
who waits beyond the growing darkness
in silence until the work is done
and the deserted One cries His last.
Seeing is knowing where I must go,
but dare I take even one more step
on this hard way of letting go all,
or should this shuddering of my soul
give me pause to count the cost again
before rough hands nail me to the cross?
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