I walked along the ocean,
The sea it tossed and turned.
A storm had come upon its shore,
The waves they raised and churned.Along the coast there seemed to me,
A crowd of gulls did sit.
Against the storm they did not want,
To rise, to fly, too wet. And yet there were a few,
Against the storm they strove.
For they knew it yielded up a feast,
As if, to stir the stew. They rose and dipped, beneath the wave,
And were fed their meat in due.
And satisfied, you heard their cry,
Calling others to the quest. Still many on the coast line sat,
Afraid to lift their wings.
It reminded me of some Christians,
Who, within, the tempest fall. For them the storms that rise do last,
To sing, to fly, too long. |
