Count on it—God intrudes in glorious and myriad ways.
Joni Eareckson Tada
by Elece Hollis
You are the light outside my window
Streaming in through cobwebbed panes
Bringing truth to free me from
All my dusty shame
You are the light streaming in,
Pure from heaven,
Pulsing its way
Even into the murky and hopeless
Places of my soul.
I have tried to make my own light,
But man-made oil runs out
Flames flicker and die
Through it all,
You are there Jesus,
You light my life.
You help me see the words,
So I can sing!
Just as a father has compassion on his children,
so the Lord has compassion on those who fear Him.
For He Himself knows our frame; He is mindful that we are but dust."