The following poem, They Are His Waves, was written by Annie Johnson Flint.

They are HIS waves, whether they break over us,

Hiding His face in smothering spray and foam;

Or smooth and sparkling, spread a path before us,

And to our haven bear us safely home.

They are HIS waves, whether for our sure comfort

He walks across them, stilling all our fear;

Or to our cry there comes no aid nor answer,

And in the lonely silence none is near.

They are HIS waves, whether we are hard-striving

Through tempest-driven waves that never cease,

While deep to deep with turmoil loud is calling;

Or at His word they hush themselves in peace.

They are HIS waves, whether He separates them,

Making us walk dry ground where seas had flowed;

Or lets tumultuous breakers surge about us,

Rushing unchecked across our only road.

They are HIS waves, and He directs us through them;

So He has promised, so His love will do.

Keeping and leading, guiding and upholding,

To His sure harbor He will bring us through.

Annie Johnson Flint

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I wish you well.

Sandy

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