by Lucy M. Young
When I awoke this morning, Lord,
And looked out at your beautiful world,
I thought of the other nations on earth
Whose banners of war are unfurled;
While here the morning songs of the birds
Brought music into my room;
And a softly whispering spring-time breeze
Held the scent of lilacs in bloom.
While I enjoyed the quiet peace
Of my little country home,
I thought of the homeless far and near
Who have been condemned to roam
In search of a place to call their own,
No matter how humble it be -
Just a tiny spot to make their home
From war and tyranny free.
Help them find it, Lord - a place of their own -
Secure and safe from fear.
Let them know the joy of freedom and peace,
The assurance that you are near.
Let them settle down with their families and friends,
Let their children romp in the sun;
May they never again know the terrors of war
Or hear the sound of a gun.
photo by Fares Hamouche on Unsplash
Woodsmoke and Cardamom 