There is joy in the strain
When the seed bursts forth Seeking light from the darkened sod And preparing its stalk for fruited weight. There is peace in the pain When the Samaritan lifted With his goodly hands And gave from his own pockets To house and feed the roadside lame. There is delight, some even say fun, In the hard-walked Path of climbing a hill, Whether rain or shine, If we trod pavement or dirt. The seed had the fruit within it. The Samaritan had God's love inside. The heart told the blistered feet The destination was worth the ache. And every strain I feel On this beautiful path With you is joy Because it is you I get to have by my side. I'll be the seed, if you are the fruit. I'll lift the lame if your love is the inn. I'll journey the rugged terrain If you are the end. There is joy in the strain, Only when that joy is you.
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