Dead Wood You see them lying On creek beds Where by watery vistas They have been led Or resting on river sides Carried by the ferocity Of the moving currents’ tides These pieces of dead wood Would anyone have thought They could or better yet should End up in such a useless heap Their limbs jangling, Lamenting in such a lonely keep But Oh, dear friend This is not their end For these shed no tears Have no fear Christ's smallest finger Can transcend Hell's darkest pit In such a place He will not Allow anyone to linger Have faith If you will just believe and God's tranquil waters You will be allowed to see!
Deadwood
Published
