When bothered, I am often prone to blither
About how I must work, my faith to prove.
A mustard seed’s supply of faith can weather.
I scarce can muster e’en a trace thereof.
I do not wish to see the fig tree wither.
I do not long to make the mountain move.
But I desire today a shorter tether.
Lord, help my unbelief and lack of love.
Photo by Sajjad Ahmadi on Unsplash