The preacher said it so many times that,
Even if I slept through it once or twice,
I would know it to be so.
God knows the number of hairs on my head,
I am convinced. Still, I will sleep tonight
Without the slightest need to know.
Omniscient, Omnipresent, Omnipotent–
Of those I need no proof. What I most want,
Is a sign He feels my woe.
The Apostle warned in words unlovely,
Confusing words. Beset and perplexed,
Persecuted and struck down–tears will flow.
Through misty eyes and over years, I see,
The tiny tyke playing at the table. She says the words
To no one but herself, but hopes grow.
God has a bottle, the sweet voice repeats.
I knew it once, but long since forgot.
A bottle with one use, His heart to show.
Tears are saved, down inside they splash,
Now in torrents, now drop by painful drop.
Every one a memory in His heart, of spirits low.
He cares; He knows! The sign I wanted
Was always there. Little children trust,
Like a Father He loves, but I let doubt grow.
In tenderness He cares, for me and you.
One day, the bottle emptied, He will Himself
Wipe away every tear we’ve cried here below.
God has a bottle. Our sorrows here
Are not for naught. He saves the memory of each,
To show to all, His tender guidance as we go.
Is it full yet?
“You have taken account of my wanderings; Put my tears in Your bottle. Are they not in Your book?”
(Psalm 56:8 ~ NASB)
© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2014. All Rights Reserved.