Across the hills, a distant shrill,
A cry of pain and sorrows deep,
A prisoner freed comes home to find
The land he left no more to be.
And wanders lost on hill and vale
In search of old familiar paths,
He finds that where they ought to be
Is naught but thorns and high grown grass.
When upon the second day
The sun doth make the shadows long,
A silhouette with head in hands
Awaits the moon's dull glow til dawn.
What good is freedom to that man,
If freedom is no more
Than a return to the old paths
Where his sentence first began?
For we are only free,
When free indeed
We turn our backs and walk away
From paths that lead back to the place
Where our sentence first began.
Thank God!
Thank God!
Thank God for thorns and high grown grass.
Things that make you go, hmmmmmm. Great insight and certainly makes me contemplative.
ReplyDeleteI would also add that as a creature of habit, I'm as likely to return to what I've known after an encounter with God, rather than go to new places. I am thankful that God points us in new directions.
ReplyDeleteProne to wander, Lord, I feel it, Prone to leave the God, I love." I wonder that since the Bible says we are "new creatures (creations) in Christ..." that old habits can be walked away from. But I hear that there is that thing within me that tends to want to go back to the old things.
ReplyDelete