Waiting is the hardest thing I've ever tried.
'Specially when I want to work My hands are tied.
Seems like ages now have passed Since I applied.
Still no satisfaction yet—My doubts abide.
Now I know how squatters feel Who stake out land
Wait the final word from men Whose sole command
Makes or breaks their hopes for home. A calloused band!
How I've wished a thousand times 'Twere in my hand!
Patience hath her perfect work Full well I know—
Makes good sermonizing—true, And yet to show
That same patience which I preach I learn too slow!
Spirit—use these earthly trials To make me grow.
Next year—maybe long before I'll doubtless say—
"God, my Father knew my need And knew the way—
Let me stew and fret awhile Then learn to pray
Teaching me that faith, His Faith Calms hearts—brings day!"
© Morris Williams