Into the Light by Dorothy Pierson

The morning fog hangs low in the valleys


Without view of river or tree.


It folds around my world


And closes me in with me.


I direct my thoughts upward


Searching for the light


Like an airplane powered skyward


Steadily gaining height


Above the closed-in ground.


 


Upwards thoughts, Godward!


You don't have to be bound


In doubt or fogged by fear.


The light of God is constant


And faith's radar sees though, clear.


 


Oh, Thank You, God of mind's heaven!


I learn from this earthborn sight


That the fog of my unknowning


Clears as I reach the Light!