gave my friend a compass
to help him find his way,
Through the dark and dreary forest,
one cold and windy day...
But as he walked away from me,
he thought he knew the trail;
He refused to use the compass,
convinced he could not fail.
As the day wore on, he stumbled;
and, soon, began to stray...
The compass, all but forgotten,
still in his pocket lay.
If not for pride,
it might have been used;
if not for lust of the eye and flesh...
These sins stood as barriers;
his soul they had enmeshed.
And with these powers of darkness invisible to him,
His way became a hopeless maze;
the right road lost and dim.
If only he would have listened;
if only he'd have tried.
True North unseen without direction;
faith wandered, ere it died.
But the compass still lies ready,
as God's light shining bright;
Holding the power of life and hope;
the lamp for darkest night.
Friend and guide for the journey home;
for arrival safe and whole;
Hope awaiting the repentant heart,
The willing, humble soul.