January 10, 2019


this mad world storms

clouds drip with fear

thick obscure light

had they that power

(they dont)

but tireless try

though time shortens

those I must trust

beneath whose care I live

untrustworthily stand

astride hate, confusion

which tsunami-like

overwhelm peace

overflow reason

rolls chaotic darkness        

blinding eyes to hope

would dim what joy remains

once fear has had its way

had it that power

(it doesnt)

yet tireless tries

though time shortens


all around me cries

I should be fearful

in doubt of my life

but I cannot condone

these fears

they have no power

cannot more than brush

upon what they vainly

would rip to shreds


have I in me this power?

this ability to withstand

terror? on my own?

no! it is not I

I have neither strength nor power

to withstand this horrid storm

my heart is insufficient pure

optimism too forlorn a hope

to stand against the monsters

constant assault my life

my better demons, demons still

to my destruction hurry


but this!


I know He on Whom my life depends

is worthy of my trust

I can be given to His care

un-succumbed to fear

the strongest storms of any powr

but teacups tempest in His hand

though as cork upon the sea

as feather in the wind

I am not veered

nor am I blown

from the course before me laid

I am here and on Him stand

firm midst the storms assault


and afterward

when all has gone but He

Whose voice first made me be

I. Will. Stand.


on Him



A poem by Peter Rhebergen

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Each New Day A Miracle
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