Poems of comfort, hope and encouragement.
“Hope Wakes in the Dark”
Hope is not born in the gentle breeze,
Nor in the calm of untroubled seas.
It stirs when storms begin to rise,
When tears fall down from swollen skies.
It slumbers in our easy days,
In sunshine paths and well-worn ways.
But when the night grows deep and wide,
Hope stirs and walks close by our side.
It needs the ache, the hollow place,
To grow its roots in silent grace.
It feeds on lack, on loss, on pain,
And sprouts like green shoots after rain.
No need for hope when all is well,
When every dream is cast and held.
But let the winds of trial blow,
And hope will rise from depths below.
So do not scorn the shadowed hour—
It wakes in you a sacred power.
For hope, like fire, glows most bright
When kindled in the darkest night.
S Wiscombe
Angels Are Ministering Spirits
(Inspired by Hebrews 1:14)
Angels unseen, yet always near,
Sent by God to calm our fear.
Wings of light in silent flight,
Guarding souls throughout the night.
Not with trumpet, sword, or flame,
But in His holy, quiet Name—
They come to serve, to guide, to keep,
While saints may toil, or pray, or sleep.
They walk beside the weary feet,
They strengthen hearts when hope’s incomplete.
In whispers soft, they point the way
When darkness veils the light of day.
They minister with gentle hands,
At God’s command, to meet demands.
In moments still, in trials long,
They carry courage, faith, and song.
Not ours to worship, praise, or claim,
But messengers who bless His Name—
Heirs of salvation, they attend,
Our Father’s servants to the end.
So do not fear the path you tread,
Though clouds may gather overhead.
For angels go where saints are sent—
By Heaven’s will, on purpose bent.
Apples of Gold in a Silver Tray
(Proverbs 25:11)
A word well spoken, pure and right,
Can turn the darkness into light.
Not shouted loud or cast away,
But placed like gold on a silver tray.
A gentle truth, a timely phrase,
Can lift a heart or guide our ways.
Not every voice that seeks to speak
Can soothe the strong or aid the weak.
But words with wisdom, grace, and care,
Are treasures rare and rich and fair.
They shine with warmth, they softly stay—
Like apples of gold in a silver tray.
In anger’s heat or sorrow’s night,
A word of peace restores the light.
When harsh replies might fan the flame,
A gentle voice brings peace again.
Lord, let my tongue be slow to fight,
And swift to speak what’s kind and right.
To season truth with love each day—
Like apples of gold in a silver tray.
**Why Do We Struggle with Fear**
Why Do We Struggle With Fear?
By S.H.W.
Why do we tremble when shadows fall,
When heaven still listens, above it all?
Why do our hearts race in anxious despair,
As though God forgot, or ceased to care?
We fear the unknown, the things we can’t see,
Forgetting who whispers, “Come follow Me.”
We fear we’ll be broken, abandoned, alone—
Yet we’re held by a hand that has always known.
We struggle with fear, for our sight is dim,
And storms look stronger than trusting Him.
We lean on our strength, our plans, our might,
And miss His peace in the darkest night.
But fear is a teacher, a voice that invites
A walk by faith, not just by sight.
It shakes us awake to a deeper call—
To trust in the One who governs it all.
So when fear creeps in and hope seems thin,
Remember who dwells eternally within.
The battle is His, the outcome secure—
His perfect love makes our hearts endure.
S Wiscombe AI
**Treasure in Jars of Clay**
Here is a reflective poem based on “Treasures in Jars of Clay”, inspired by 2 Corinthians 4:7:
🎵 Treasures in Jars of Clay 🎵
Inspired by 2 Corinthians 4:7
We are but jars, chipped and worn,
Fragile frames, weathered and torn.
Not much to boast of to the eye,
Yet inside dwells the Lord Most High.
He hides His glory deep within,
In vessels cracked by toil and sin.
So when we shine, it’s clear to see—
The light is Christ, not merely me.
Though pressed on every side with care,
We are not crushed; God’s strength is there.
Though struck down hard, we rise once more—
His power flows through every pore.
We carry death, yet life anew,
Christ’s risen power shining through.
The weaker we seem, the more He shows
That grace through broken vessels flows.
So let the world see clay and dust—
We’ll boast in Him, in love and trust.
For in this jar, His light will stay—
A treasure bright in jars of clay.
S.Wiscombe.