I sit here on the hilltop
and view the scene below:
‘Tis I, this one who climbs there
seeking foothold as I go?
The look of desperation
on the weary, lifted face,
The frantic eyes e’er searching
new hold to grasp someplace?
So familiar as I watch now,
yet so foreign and so strange
to one seated here in safety
Only grace and peace in range.