Poetry

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"Your ways are not My ways," He told us long ago.
Yet we always are a bit surprised and we do not understand,
when something unexpected happens to our cherished plans.

"My ways are not your ways," we see from long ago.
For what human would attack a city, by marching round about
and expect the walls to tumble when he gave a mighty shout?
Or which of us would feed a multitude by using the meager fare,
of two fishes and five loaves which a small boy had brought there?
And what would science think of causing an iron axe head to float,
by casting in a stick rather than taking out a boat?
None of us would send the heir to the mighty Egyptian throne,
to a desert for an education when he already had one at home.
And who would grant deliverance by a shepherd's humble hand
when there were men of valor in the proud king's little band?

"Your ways are not My ways," He told us long ago.
So He loved us from eternity, even when we had no love.
And hence sent down His only Son to save us from above.

"My ways are not your ways," We see it clearer now.
He takes the soul of little worth, and makes it priceless indeed,
for it is His way, and He sees our terrible need.
So if you are in trouble and you do not understand,
Just remember God is working and He certainly has a plan,

But "His ways are not your ways."

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