Of Bard's Battlefield or Walking Battlefields

How swift the eye perceives The innocent façadeThat veils the part/heart that hails or grievesThe holiness of God The battlefield of Bard (humankind)Is neither ink nor page Beneath form's peripheral guard What storms of worship/passion wage Be still, my soul, and knowHe heals the battle-wounds belowThe innocent façade © Janet Martin The battlefield of BardIs neither ink nor page... I do constant battle with a dark voice telling me I should quit this blog.This fierce force laughs, jeers, scoffs, scorns, accuses, belittles, stabs, shames, in great attempts to dissuade, discourage and despair!(It's not always easy to put one's mind and heart on public display) But that voice is no match for The Other Voice who, as I bow my head He hears my heart, He whispers sweet peace to me.He orders the demons out!He restores my soul!Hallelujah 💝🙏 Whatever our personal battlegrounds are,may we heed the Still, Small Voice of our loving Creatorremembering we can do all things through He who gives us strength,and who designed us each with our own unique abilitiesgifts and responsibility to them/Him!If we proceed, empowered by His grace and for His glory we succeed, not always perfectly, but never in vain!Let's keep in mind we are all walking battlefields-soul-diers-warriors,and thus be more gentle with each other !! ***The cure for fear and despair is alwaysto take my eyes off myselfand fix them on GodAnd His great love's 'battle-scars'when He broke the curse of sinwhen He was pierced for our transgressions and crushed for our iniquities💓🙏Isa.53:5 ***Over 12 years ago my friend gave me the tidbit belowand since then, it has been taped where I generally write,as her gentle reminder when I need it.Thank-you Jane W. 1 Cor.10:31So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God. One voice tells me to quit A critic mercy-voidA brute who thrives on fear and doubtTill courage is destroyed But oh, the other Voice Is gentle as can beA friend whose tender grace and joy Whispers sweet peace to me One voice is loud and crudeThe other, still and smallOne makes love feel misunderstoodThe other, not at all One voice is like a stingAnd fuels dark despairThe Other sets the heart to singAnd fills/stills the soul with prayer © Janet Martin