Who is pulling the handcart?

The pioneers of old,

Put their faith in God,

They left the land they knew,

To travel out abroad.

Uncertain of their future,

They pulled their handcarts all,

Whenever they got stuck or trapped,

Then to their knees they'd fall.

With pleading eyes they'd turn,

As they prayed within their hearts,

Asking the question,

Who is pulling the handcart?

Tears would come as they realized,

Angelic help was with them,

It was help from our God above,

That He would prove 'here I am'

And as I walked beside my friends,
And the people that I love,
Reenacting history,
With help from up above.

I witnessed and I felt,

A small part of their pain,

For in times of need and struggle,

And in the mist of clouds and rain.

I would turn around to see,

Asking within my heart,

With searching, moist eyes,

Who is pulling the hand cart?

I would see both kinds of angels,

In the faces of my friends,

Or I would not see anything at all,

Knowing Christ would stay there to the end.

As I go throughout my life,

With trials and hard times

I often fall down in grief,

With tears filling up my eyes,

I wonder if this hurt,

Will ever disappear,

And when will help come?

In a week or in a year?

Then I feel my burdens lightened,

And crying, withing my heart,

Once again I ask the question,

Who is pulling the handcart?