Palms outstretched in offering,
Bowing low, I meet my king.
In humility, I sing.

In the market, in the square,
Souls surround me. You are there.
Though I move, you hear my prayer.

In the darkness cold and still,
As I sit against my will,
I look up and you fulfill.

Through the music and the word,
Worship serves to undergird.
I receive and I am heard.

May my posture ever be
Tempered by eternity
As I learn to walk with thee.

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Unsplash

Thanks to Maci for suggesting the title and topic of this poem.