The Lord has His own time
To some, it seems a lifetime.
Feeling the heat of its refinery,
And then pondering its hidden mystery,
Can only lead to utter frustration.
But, Oh Lord Jesus, when the manifestation?

Suffocated by the constraints of time,
I am tired, waiting for primetime.
Killing time, killing time, while waiting…
But why? But I am trusting…
My understanding of all, becoming dim,
Praise Him, I must, in the interim

Standing on the edge of time,
And silently, patiently, waiting for mine.
Seeing windows open wide to favour,
Smelling, feeling and tasting its savour,
Perceiving the victory on the horizon,
Testifying, before the time, to Him alone.