I question what God sees through his eyes...
If he ever hears my voice,
Though he gives no reply...
I stare into the skies,
Holding back empty cries,
And begin to wonder if the preacher's word is a lie.
I've learned that he's omnipotent,
He's a God of love,
He's all-knowing...
How do I explain that to the three year-old who's hand I'm holding?
"What did mommy do? Why did God take her away?"
She stares into my eyes,
Yet I have no words to say...
I too, wish to know.
I too, ask why.
WHY is it that it seems as though the young must die?
Youth cut down in it's prime...
Some suffer and have never commited a crime,
Which makes me think, for me must not be much time...
Lord I wish to know... What EXACTLY are your methods?
Why do the foul roam the earth, while the saints lie breathless?