God the Provider
It is not I,
but You O Lord
Who is the
supreme Judge of all
Condemning
sinners
Damning the
wicked
To proclaim Your
holy justice
It is not I,
but You O Lord
Who made the
perfect sacrifice
Lived a
blameless life
Humble to the grave
To show the
purest love of all
It is not I,
but You O Lord
Who places me
on Your holy hill
Providing refuge
Giving peace
of mind
To never waver
or despair
It is not I,
but You O Lord
Who provides
me with a passion
A zealous
pursuit
An abounding
thirst
To envision
Your perfection
It is not I,
but You O Lord
Who is the
eternal Being
Forever
worshiped
Submersed in
glory
To forever be
praised, Amen.
* * *
Flesh
Flesh—this wretched, filthy, stinking thing
Often brushed off as inevitable
Yet an honest man knows
That the fruit that it shows
Is cultivated by his own desire
Fruit—associated with good
But the fruit of flesh
Is as the neglected apple
Under its source
Rotten, decaying, of no good use
Apple—Eve chose you, yes?
More desirable than God?
A trustworthy statement it seems
Marked by the serpent’s nod
The lie of lies she believed
Lie—anything and everything which is not
The leaves covering a pit
An abyss of hellish torture
Freeing you to be captive
To all that Him who is good is not
By Timothy Berezhnoy
No comments:
Post a Comment