My boy, beware the moral poverty
Of those intent on feeding discontent.
The end of all their labor is lament.
They die in lust for blood and property.
Remain not an antagonist to truth
Nor love the follies of your fallen state.
You need not face the unrepentant’s fate,
For wisdom offers hope to humble youth.
Know well that you will never know as well
As he who rules reality with love,
So hallow him and turn a list’ning ear.
Invite instruction and commit to dwell
At wisdom’s fountainhead. Heed God above
And rest within a state of holy fear.
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There are truths I know yet struggle to believe.
You know all my struggles, yet you never leave.
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Matthew tells us the rich young man “went away sorrowful, for he had great possessions” (Matthew 19:22). When told to sell what he had and to give to the poor, he walked away, leaving the opportunity of eternity for his earthly kingdom. Perfection, it seems, cost too much.
I’m afraid of the prayer I just prayed.
I’m afraid that you might answer it.
But I’m also afraid of this season I’m in.
And you’re here with me now, and you’ll be with me then.
And I know, one day, I’ll get through it
And be thankful for prayers that I prayed.
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