When shadows fall and doubts draw near,
When hearts are heavy, full of fear,
I lift my eyes beyond the haze,
And find my strength in God’s sure ways.

The world may shake, the storms may rise,
But peace is found in Heaven’s eyes.
For every worry, whispered prayer,
Our Father bends to meet us there.

“When I’m afraid,” the psalmist said,
“I trust in You”—my daily bread.
And in that trust, the fear must cease,
Replaced with calm, replaced with peace.

So if you’re lost in troubled days,
Come seek the Lord in earnest praise.
He’s faithful still, both strong and true—
He walks each anxious step with you.

Amen.

For His Honor and Glory
MarkWaldrop

Heroes don’t wear capes that fly,
They don’t soar through a painted sky.
No masks to hide, no flashy suits
Just dog tags clinking, combat boots.

They walk through dust, through fire and rain,
Shouldering silence, bearing pain.
With steady hearts and watchful eyes,
They fight for peace beneath the skies.

No spotlight finds them in the fray,
Yet still they rise, day after day.
For love of country, kin, and right,
They stand as shields through darkest night.

So if you seek a hero true,
Look not to myths of red and blue
But to the ones who serve and stand
With honor etched in calloused hands.

No capes, no fame, no scripted lines
Just courage lived a thousand times.

For His Honor and Glory
MarkWaldrop

Search where you may with all your might,
To find a glimpse of God’s pure Light.
Climb the mountains, scan the skies,
Seek through tears and heartfelt cries.

But know, O soul, man’s view is small,
Earth-bound eyes can’t see it all.
We chase through reason, thought, and lore,
Yet miss the truth we’re longing for.

For light divine, and wisdom deep,
Are not in places shadows sleep.
True revelation, clear and bright,
Comes not by sight—but Spirit’s light.

The Word of God, alive and true,
Will open hearts and minds anew.
Not by flesh nor clever mind,
But by His Spirit, truth we find.

So bow your heart, and seek His face,
Not in the stars, but in His grace.
Search not alone—His Word will guide,
And with His Spirit, walk beside.

For His Honor and Glory
MarkWaldrop 

1Co 2:14  The person without the Spirit does not accept the things that come from the Spirit of God but considers them foolishness, and cannot understand them because they are discerned only through the Spirit. 

Love the earth, the sky, the breeze,
The whisper in the bending trees.
Embrace the beasts, both wild and tame,
And see in each a holy flame.

Despise not man, but riches vain,
Let greed not bind your heart in chain.
Give freely when the needy cry,
And lift the lowly passing by.

Defend the strange, the lost, the wild,
The silent man, the dreaming child.
Let labor serve a greater goal—
To heal another broken soul.

Hate the tyrant, not the name,
But never play the power game.
Speak not of God in loud debate,
Let love, not dogma, seal your fate.

Bow to none, not crowned, nor dressed,
No title makes a man the best.
Walk with the poor, the pure, the strong,
In simple truth where hearts belong.

Read the wind and sky and sea,
Let nature set your spirit free.
Doubt the lessons fed

For His Honor and Glory
MarkWaldrop

Inspired by Poet
Walter "Walt" Whitman

“How strange,” said the Boy, “that the grass still stands,
After winds tore the trees and scattered the lands.”
He looked all around at the broken and torn,
At the silence that followed the fury and storm.

“Sometimes being soft is strong,” said the Hare,
His whiskers still wet from the rain-swept air.
“The grass doesn’t fight, doesn’t rise up tall—
It bends with the wind and survives it all.”

“The oak may boast of its height and might,
But it snapped in the face of the storm last night.
The grass just whispered and laid down low,
Then rose again when the winds let go.”

The Boy sat quiet, letting it sink in—
That strength isn’t always loud or within
The hardest of things or the boldest of cries—
But sometimes in softness, true courage lies.

And there in the hush of the morning light,
He saw that the meek had won the fight.
For when the storm has had its say,
It’s the gentle things that find their way.

For His Honor and Glory
MarkWaldrop

Heal me, Lord, if it is Your will,
Speak to the storm and make it still.
Touch this pain with mercy’s hand,
Lift me up so I might stand.

But if not, if healing waits,
If I must walk through shadowed gates,
Then hold me close and guide me through
For even then, I’ll cling to You.

I will not curse the thorn or fire,
Nor trade Your love for vain desire.
Though valleys stretch and skies grow dim,
My song will rise, my trust in Him.

For You are God on peaks so high,
And You are near when low I lie.
So heal me, Lord—but if You will not,
I’ll walk with You through every lot.

Through darkest nights, my soul is still
I love You, Lord, and I always will.

For His Honor and Glory
MarkWaldrop 

I don’t do things as good as I used to,
The days move different, the lines are blurred.
I don’t hear the whispers like once I could,
And faces fade more than they should.

I don’t see the world with the same clear light,
The colors dim, the print’s too tight.
My memory plays a game of hide,
And sometimes leaves me mystified.

I walk much slower than I did before,
And pause at every creaky floor.
I take more breaks and rest more often,
But in those pauses, my soul has softened.

I’m slower now at most everything
At tying shoes or answering rings.
But though my hands may tremble some,
My heart is steady, my race still run.

And that’s okay, I’m not dismayed,
For in the quiet, I’ve often prayed.
And found a peace I never knew—
I’m closer to God than I ever grew.

So let the years fall soft and slow,
There’s grace in letting the old ways go.
For though I don’t do all I used to do,
I’m held by love that’s ever true.

2Co 4:16  The outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day. 

For His Honor and Glory
MarkWaldrop

It doesn’t rain unless there’s a storm,
The sky must darken, the winds transform.
Yet in the turmoil, drops descend,
To cleanse, to heal, and hearts to mend.

The thunder rolls, the night may cry,
But grace falls gently from the sky.
For rain, though born in tempest’s roar,
Brings life to roots and strength to soar.

Showers of blessing, strangely disguised,
Come wrapped in trials we never prized.
Yet through the pain and bitter strife,
They pour down hope and nourish life.

And when the storm has passed us by,
A hush will settle on the sky.
The sun breaks through, the world made new—
And peace will come, serene and true.

So let the clouds roll overhead,
Let faith be stronger than our dread.
For after storms, God’s love is shown,
And we are never left alone.

Psa 30:5  weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning. 

For His Honor and Glory
MarkWaldrop