If I could but talk to Him
Oh, the favors I would plead,

But I must be content to walk with Him.
And follow where He would lead,

Yet, still my silent heart cries out
And to my humble ears remains a shout.

Heal them Oh. Lord release them from pain
Just when my efforts seem so in vain

A quiet answer fills my soul
One day, my child, the pain will cease

The lame, the wicked, the tortured will be whole
And they will hold an eternal lease

To the valley of tomorrow,
Where a weary heart bears no sorrow.

© Carol G. Oliver

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Published 1988 in the National Library of Poetry.
It was published On the Threshold of a Dream
(Library of Congress)