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.