When The Morning Falls

When the morning falls on the farthest hill,
I will sing His name, I will praise Him still.
When dark trials come and my heart is filled
With the weight of doubt, I will praise Him still.

For the Lord our God, He is strong to save
From the arms of death, from the deepest grave.
And He gave us life in His perfect will,
And by His good grace, I will praise Him still.

(c) Fernando Ortega, 1997



Yesterday, Dad, Theophilus and Lance went up to Anchorage. On their way home, they were delayed for quite a while by a severe accident. This morning, I woke up and found that Anna at Pleasantview Schoolhouse had a friend whose family had lost a son to a car accident.
This afternoon, Theophilus came down to my room where I was working to tell me that the accident last night that had delayed them had killed the man who'd been hit. Two women (I believe) who were in the car which had caused the accident were in the hospital, and not expected to live. But then he informed me that we knew the man, Jeff. He lived with us for a few months when Theophilus and I were small children. His life had been rough, but through it all, he still remained faithful to his God. Mum and Dad are torn up, and Mum put on a CD of Fernando Ortega. "I Will Praise Him, Still" will always remind me of death and mourning: she played this song when my grammamma died, and now.
We all are greatly saddened, and it makes me wonder sometimes how it seems that times of mourning come in one great lump, never spread out. Perhaps God has a reason for that. Whatever it is , I still will praise him.