Sunday’s Secret

Sometimes the river runs beneath where no one sees it’s path;
The dark, the cold all mock it’s run but life is still inside.

There is no sign when once emerged that anything has changed.
The sun’s reflection, glimmers bright, allow the past to hide.

Like river’s run, the pain for some is hidden well beneath;
Where dark, and cold, and lonely breed a shame that none can reach.

Sunday’s secret lies beneath a crinoline disguise;
The love, the song, the truth we pray to penetrate and preach.

From horrid hole of dark despair to trudging muddy paths,
The secret finds a source of light and climbs to feel it’s heat.

Though still encased in flesh and fear the greater knowledge comes;
Healing forms the path to freedom, pain is not defeat.

Psalm 40:1-3
“I waited patiently for the Lord; and he inclined unto me, and heard my cry.
He brought me up also out of an horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings.
And he hath put a new song in my mouth, even praise unto our God; many shall see it, and fear, and shall trust in the Lord.”