The sky was blue before and now it’s gray
And rain has wet the grass, seeped through the soil
And hope is held in hiatus this day
As, numb, we contemplate our Savior’s toil.
I wonder, were the soldiers not afraid
When Peter took a sword and sliced an ear
And Jesus, with a stroke that stilled the blade,
Reached out and touched the wound and made it hear?
Did they not know way down in wounded hearts
That This was He whose Power came to save?
His Innocence was where the Victory starts:
A thorny Crown, a bloody Cross, a Grave?
We wait to see if, as we watch and weep,
The Promised Power His Promises will keep.
ELIZABETH MUSSER writes ‘entertainment with a soul’ from her writing chalet—tool shed—outside Lyon, France. Find more about Elizabeth’s novels at www.elizabethmusser.com and on Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, and her blog, Letters to the Lord.
Elizabeth Musser 
Hi Elizabeth!! Thank you very much for your wonderful and encouraging words. At the risk of sounding heartless, I have been profoundly blessed by your posts with respect to your father’s death and your continuing journey. Thank you for this gift of transparency!!
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