On a perfect winter's day,
I passed the time away;
walking in the hills,
so close to home;
thanking God I had the health
to do so,
the sweet ability to roam.
To marvel at the scene,
that reflected nature's screen;
that sent pleasure to my mind,
of the meditative kind;
that of wonders often seen.
In the places seldom viewed,
in the caverns of the deep;
where the pictures still remain,
where the images still leap.
I have walked the trails of sadness,
where no happiness is found;
where depression lies within,
of the tragedies around.
But the light is always shining,
although hidden by a cloud;
the sunshine will break forth,
from the grey, low-hanging shroud.
Light will always conquer darkness,
it's the voice of God that's speaking;
and the soul is filled with glory,
soon after all the weeping.