Perfect rest

I wrote the following in the January of this year. I waste so much of my life, not seeking God's will, but wishing he would fulfil my own.

I come to the cross
to seek the wisdom of one who has gone before.

~*~

It is so hard a task to
cast yourself upon Him
who cares for you,
when he feels so far away.
Are my tears not a drop
more in the ocean of mankind's misery?
But when tempests toss the
waves of my own
mood, who could steady
them but He who
commanded the waters to be still?

~*~

What more can I say for
my Lord and His character,
than that when I am at
my lowest, when I
cannot see or feel or hear Him,
I know his will is to be
trusted.
Why is it that even
when we are resigned
to God's course of actions,
that we are pained when
our own plans do not
come to fruition?

~*~

How many tears we shed
at the sight of our own
foolish plans, gone unfulfilled.

How many sleepless nights,
our minds race with
what would not, could not be.

How many an hour spent
in dreaming a future
He did not deem to be ours.

How many hours, days,
months, years and lives
wasted, not content to rest
in His perfect will.

~*~