Pressed, Then Healed

The deeper grows my love for truth,
The less I shrink at God’s reproof.
Wounds still come, sharp as a knife—
But they no longer name my life.

Each hurt, a blow that causes pain,
Yet truth brings peace as here I remain.
Your Word does not avoid the sore—
It presses first, then heals my core.

When storms arise and shadows fall,
Your promises become my wall.
Not every ache is eased at night,
But none remain outside Your sight.

No longer tossed by every pain,
Your truth revives and heals again.
Each verse confronts what I would shield—
Then binds the places You revealed.

If this poem stirred something in your heart, remember that the deepest roots grow from God’s Word itself. “Thy word have I hid in mine heart, that I might not sin against thee” (Psalm 119:11). If you’d like simple, practical help in tucking Scripture into memory…

👉 Sign up for the free FAST Crash Course in Bible Memorization: http://fast.st/cc/21419