Beyond where all lessons are learned in tumoil there is a holy place

Beyond all our effort and the fruit of our toil there is a land of grace

Twisting and turning, writhing as we strain

To keep from plunging headlong into pain

To keep from falling on our face

We must fall instead into grace...

We see now in part, not in the whole... We sense the struggle in our soul

With our maker to be at peace- at ease to do as he would please

Terror seized my soul when I realized my state

Rushing headlong into a collision with the knowledge of my fate

Now let awe overwhelm my senses, let mystery envelop my mind

Let joy overlow my heart, then the truth I will find...

April 1994

Anthony Foster