a poem, if i may... and why not?

through war, peace, drought or spring
the trees still grow, the grass still green
whether skies are bronze or azure tint
The Lord is still the King of kings

In His Hands are the hearts of kings
in His Hands are visions and dreams
In His peace there is no worry
In His Love all struggles cease

In His mind are thoughts of me
Of future bright and hopes delight
In His wisdom His Spirit guides
through weary days and restless nights

that in the end, He may present
to Himself a worthy man
one who was weak & scorn by all
but in Him i may stands tall