 |
| Courtesy of www.toeverytribeblog.com |
Though they say, “the road to Hell is paved with
good intentions,”
None were quite as good as mine.
Though I assured Father I would offend and lapse
no more,
I lie, famished, with the swine.
Though my heart, in trials, yearns for your intervention,
To my grim fate, I resign.
Though I lift my eyes to your glory to gladly
adore,
I descend to acts, malign.
But though I walk in the dark forest of my own
blunders,
In shade, does Your mercy shine.
But though the hounds and vultures of the Netherworld
surround,
You lift me to visions divine.
But though hosts of fiends seek to rend my spirit
asunder,
My soul is for hands of Thine.
But though every power, terror, horror of Hell,
around,
I stay a branch, You the Vine.
Through failure, defect,
and fault,
You, My God, my soul
exalts.
© 2012 The King's Coffee, All Rights Reserved.
No comments:
Post a Comment