Check Mate

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

© Jeanne E. Webster

 

 Your great promises, Lord, kept me on track

Sharp-set stones deeply cut, my strength spent

I could not meet your eyes if I turned back…

So on I went.

 

You would not yield your faith in me

As menacing crags threatened to bar

I conquered inch by terrified inch to see…

My goal afar.

 

I struggle now amid tough golden years,

I flinch; falter blindly, yet deep within,

“You can!” my spirit, unwavering, hears…

Lord, we shall win.