The pictures are constantly changing,
First a child looking lost and alone,
Next is an image of Christ Himself,
Holding her hand in His own.
She's surrounded by little daises,
A smile has returned to her face,
She has felt the goodness of His love,
Been uplifted by His sweet grace.
Then there's a picture of a troubled teen,
Looking like life had worn him down,
Wondering what was ahead for him,
In this rural, ragtag town.
In the next scene it's the same boy,
But contentment gleams in his eyes,
Our Lord with His arm on his shoulder,
Has answered most of his whys.
A little further down the road,
A terribly mournful scene,
A woman wanders in shadows,
In need of the great Unseen.
Then she's fallen to her knees,
As in the darkness she hides,
Her soul seems all but empty,
All alone she trembles and cries.
But then the picture changes again,
As she basks in a golden haze,
Embraced in gentle angel's wings,
While she silently looks up and prays.
Soon the Lord's in this picture,
And He's lighting up her life,
He took the burdens she offered,
And removed the depressing strife.
My life's billboards all around,
Reflect His most glorious light,
While He takes all that we give Him,
As He guides us with His might.