COUNT THEIR TEARS When I was young, I saw the tears of the oppressed and I felt their pain deep within my own heart for they had no one to comfort them. And I held the smallest ones in my arms as they cried, hardly moving, laying still. I felt their little lives slip away as they stared into the night sky, as though looking at the stars with unseeing eyes. I witnessed the pain that died with them. Most of the children were alone There was the mother kneeling at the body of her little girl who lay in the street, her black hair like silk once danced on her shoulders now was soaked in crimson red. Her mother wailed loudly with tears racing down her tan cheeks, leaving wet tracks. Surrounded by those lost to evil who were void of compassion. Oh, Lord, let me take her in my arms, and whisper to her the things of God. She is among those in agony and anguish and in the mist of evil beasts. Please will you be not hasty in your utterances to God but pray for those who died and count their tears.
Posted on: Sat, 24 Jan 2015 04:57:18 +0000
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