Let not the bitter twist your soul,
Nor match their fire with burning coal.
For hearts that hurt will often fight,
But love can pierce the darkest night.

Speak peace where anger takes its stand,
Extend a warm and open hand.
A gentle word, a patient ear—
Can soften wrath and calm the fear.

Where others curse, let blessing grow,
Plant seeds of grace in hardened soil below.
For even those whose hearts have strayed
Can bloom again through love conveyed.

Goodwill’s not weak—it stands its ground,
It lifts the lost, the low, the bound.
It dares to care, to build, to heal—
To meet ill-will with truth and zeal.

So be the bridge, the balm, the light—
The soul who chooses what is right.
For when goodwill begins to reign,
Even hate can’t long remain.

For His Honor and Glory
MarkWaldrop