“I searched, but only carefully
I pored through every book I could
And finding all the facts laid out,
I took the ones I thought were good.I organized these chosen facts
Into my childhood’s frame of mind
And those that did not seem so good,
Towards them I carefully was blind.I grew, and took the battlefield
As every child must someday do.
And every foe that cut me down,
Seemed only to my faith renew.I mourned at every telling blow
That sought to find the killing thrust.
And on the field of battle I
Found power, comfort, hope and trust.As one by one by childish thoughts
Were yearly, roughly cast apart
A solid rock would not be moved,
An iron core of soul and heart.See, all my loss to date was nil.
And brief was all the pain implied:
My God could not be hurt or killed
For He, because of me, had died.Does God need me to save His Name,
Who paid a universe’s loss?
He died, but conquered Death itself,
By nailing it upon a cross.Do not bemoan the cast down things;
”
Beliefs that can be shaken, should.
Unshaken God is lifted up:
One man, three nails, and roughened wood.