A Friday Poem


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How wicked must this manís heart be
That God must take such pains with me
To bend and break this sin cast soul
To work the work that makes men whole?
My groan.

How glorious must this Godís love be
That He would take such pains with me
To hammer out the stubborn stays
That full resist His grace filled ways?
My awe.

Your will and wisdom Lord for me
If you would take such pains with me
To teach my sin-sick heart to yield
Whilst purging deeps of sin concealed?
My cry.

Iíll stand on Zionís glassy sea
For He has taken pains with me
In fash’ning Adamís poorest one
To bear the brand of Christ the Son
My hope.

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