He gives beauty in place of ash,
Restores what life has tried to smash.
Where sorrow fell like heavy rain,
He gently lifts the weight of pain.
The oil of joy for tears once cried,
For every wound you tried to hide.
A garment bright of praise He brings,
To quiet hearts with broken wings.
Where spirits felt crushed and worn,
He plants new hope, a fresh new morn.
Like oaks of righteousness we stand,
Planted firm by His own hand.
No longer bound by grief or despair,
His glory shines through answered prayer.
From ruins deep His light will rise
A living testament before all eyes.
MARYANN BOSAH 