Polished Stones
By J. Brad Chapman
I hiked along a rugged coast
where God’s great hand was mightily shown
The raging sea and precipice
were proof of His majestic throne.
Not a trace of human kind
the wind had blown all sign away
and so meandering along
I wandered, pondered, all that day.
I walked upon a wind swept beach
where storms through time had fiercely blown
and looking down about my feet
a myriad of flat, round stones.
Of every shade and every hue
those polished stones of pocket size
so putting them into my coat
I looked on them as treasured prize.
The stones had weathered fearsome winds
and wearing down through countless storm
knocking off their jagged edge
to then expose a polished form.
Men are much like polished stones
they start out course with texture crude
but through adversities of life
rough edges wear until they’re smooth.
So keep your face turned toward the wind
and trudge ahead with shoulders squared
for to endure the storms of life
is something all great men have dared.
The greatest man who ever dared
who through tempestuous trial, honed,
showed us a more excellent way . . . .
to be His precious, polished stones.
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