Round the gristmill stone turning, the long hard day trudged by
     Bound by heavy prison chains, Samson stared through sightless eyes.

Gone was Victory’s sweetness, Israel’s champion, no more.
     Just endless turns round the millstone, his bed the cold, stone floor.

Despair and shame with him daily, no tears to come through gouged eyes.
     Still a flicker of hope in his heart, that God might hear his cry.

The days passed so dreary, with defeat they go so slow.
     Until the day he discovered his hair had begun to grow.

With that faith returned, to grow as a mustard seed,
     Samson’s soul deep within him, by grace was finally freed.

The day came, the enemy gathered, to make sport of one, once feared.
     As the small boy led him to their temple, the crowd stood and jeered.

Oh how they mocked and scorned him, as to the main pillars, he did cling.
     They, not knowing what lay in store, for upon them, the whole house he would bring.

So he prayed and believed and bowed himself, and pulled the columns down,
     Slaying them by the thousands, their screams a terrible sound.

In death Samson finally triumphed, for he learned of God’s Great Grace,
     To forgive and renew our soul, so we might finish the race.

Let’s look at the lesson taught here from the word of God’s Holy Page
     That through His Matchless Mercy, it’s His battle that we wage…

by Tom Stratton