By: Darrelyn L. Tutt

The greater the odds stacked against me,
The higher my heart seems to soar;
The stronger becomes the resistance,
The strength that is only the more.

Surely the woes of affliction,
The strain of adversity great;
Is merely the sign of a pruning,
A marking and sealing of fate.

Look on the man with the sorrow,
Not with a pity or strain;
But see how his pathway is straightened,
Thrust by the springboard of pain.

Oh for the heights that do tower,
That teach us the lessons we learn;
And oh, for the heart cultivating,
The wisdom to rightly discern.

 Joy shall be mine in the morning,
Sweetest the rays of the sun;
On he who has walked through the darkness,
And waits for the morning to come.