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!

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