The room is calm, serene, unlike the storm outside
Few enter it, though countless numbers try
The way to it is narrow and littered with jagged glass,
This suffering necessary for those who wish to pass
A marker stands like a sentinel, placed there to point the way,
Words etched on it reading: “offer a sacrifice of praise”
The door is open wide for all, but it is rarely found
The only ones who see it are lying on the ground
Wracked with pain and grief, they fight to obey,
Parched lips opening, the healing words to say:
“Thank You.”
Then they’re through the door and in a quiet place,
Awash in purest light, swept away by grace
Do you know what they find, in this room so hard to reach?
It is it not the sorrow the rocky pathway seems to preach
But a thing we all search for, whether life is grand or dull
Only in His presence can we attain it: joy to the full
Strange that such a glorious treasure, desired by all men,
Is found through humble and heart and words repeated yet again:
“Thank You.”
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