The Face Of My Suffering

I venture into things beyond time,
And sought for things that bear much respect.
For their beauty that had blinded me
And taken my joy and peace away.

Yes! For fear that I'm alone,
I chose to suffer and toil:
To redeem my hidden glory;
To show I'm capable of great deeds.

Look at the face of my suffering!
I toil till I sweat, and till, till I bleed.
That the pains of my hard work may be revealed,
And depths of my venture solely felt.

My venter revolt in agony and violence
As I drown in the misery of my fastings.
And through prayers, my voice I raise to the heavens,
That my cries may be soothe with good results.

My lips are no stranger to sweat,
Nor my tongue, a foreigner to tears.
I patiently wait in good tears and faith,
On Him that never fails.

In due time, he smiled upon me:
His countenance that kissed my face.
My works, He blessed with proceeds
That men of goodwill may see it and rejoice.

Indeed, I have suffered and toiled.
But truly, no hard work is a waste.