Surely he hath borne our griefs,
and carried our sorrows:
yet we did esteem him stricken,
smitten of God, and afflicted.
But he was wounded for our transgressions,
he was bruised for our iniquities:
the chastisement of our peace was upon him;
and with his stripes we are healed.
Sorrow clenched my hand
And led me through the vale.
Her grip held like bands;
My heart, she did impale.
This stake I tried to loose,
Her grasp, I tried to shake.
The more I fought its press,
The less I could escape.
As I wept, a still, small voice
Softly called my name.
When I lifted up my eyes,
The Son of Sorrows came.
The tears streaming down His face,
Mingled in with mine.
As He wrapped me in His arms,
Our broken hearts entwined.
Thus did sorrow reveal to me
Her deepest mystery.
It is in the darkest vales of pain,
I finally see my need.
It is not joy that speaks to me,
That drives me to my knees.
But it is sorrow where I find
LIfe’s only source of Peace.
His Song in the Night 
Oh, I know this to be true! In our trials and sufferings, we see our need for Him, and of course He is there waiting. My Bible reading/study this morning was in Romans 8 which goes along with your poem in how the Holy Spirit makes intercession for us when we don’t know how to pray. So thankful for the Spirit ministering to our souls. Thank you for another poem of Truth! You are a gifted writer. š
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I love how the Holy Spirit brings things together like that for us, and so very thankful for how He intercedes for us. Thank you for your kind encouragement! š„°
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