A walk in the woods. Who says that, along this lovely path, I will not find brambles, or a snare?
Is my flesh to be torn? Am I a caught hare?
Lord, walk with me. You guide my feet. You turn thorn to dewdrop, trap to cushion. Your sunshine pours down upon me, I am protected, I am loved.
I draw near to you, will you walk with me?
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