My roots are weak,
The soil is dry,
To speak of this
Shows how I
Wander about,
My eyes too low,
Longing for blaze,
Settling for glow.
Oh! the day
Unbridled be
Together, yet no
Forgone purity.
I took a lamb
From the poor,
My company
I slay it for.
There is a man
Who does the same,
I revile him
And curse his name.
In my folly
I scorned the Lord,
In spite of this
Out He poured
Means of grace,
Human means.
From shadows,
And night it gleans
New life. Grace,
A lamp well lit
Ignores me painted
A hypocrite.
A heart like David’s
Depraved and flawed,
Needs a Nathan
To seek after God.
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