God

Despite What Eyes Can See

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I neither like nor understand your “no,”
Yet neither are required for me to trust
That you make straight the way I am to go
E’en when desires give way to thirst and dust.
If you withhold no good thing from your own,
Then your withholding must be for the best.
I may feel I am utterly alone;
I know you have a purpose for this test.
The LORD will never fail. Thus it is joy
To walk the path of sorrow for a time.
The surest hope, none ever can destroy.
No valley deep can halt the upward climb.
Your love holds fast despite what eyes can see,
Thus sight always defers to faith in thee.

Photo by Jaleel Akbash on Unsplash

Perspective and Provision

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Frustrated by my failure to perceive
The movement of the invisible one
Whose work, though purposeful, leaves me undone
Till no one save the Savior can relieve
The longing my soul feels to find its home.
I both believe and struggle to believe
That hope endures because of heaven’s Son,
That fears will fade, that victory is won;
And in this moment, I cannot conceive
How this cross leads beyond a catacomb.
I see I am shortsighted, prone to think
No sign of water means no future drink.
Such circumstances hold a hollow taunt.
God is my shepherd. I shall never want.

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But Who Am I To Thee?

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I am a novelty to most,
A treasure to but two or three,
One face amidst history’s host,
But who am I to thee?

I am an upright man to most,
A sinner to but two or three,
One saint amidst the sacred host,
But who am I to thee?

I am unworthy, more than most,
A traitor to the one-in-three,
One soul amidst a sinful host.
Oh, who am I to thee?

I am a son because the most
August of sons rose morning three
With freedom for the captive host,
For he was truly thee.

I am yours to the uttermost,
A slave no more to two or three,
One voice, known, singing with your host.
E’er more am I to thee.

Photo by youssef naddam on Unsplash

Limits

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I cannot do it all today.
I cannot do it all.
In spite of what I think or say,
I still will fail and fall.
But time will ever slip away
And stress will foster disarray,
And so I cannot help but pray,
For I am very small.
Yet in my weakness, you display
Your holy wherewithal
To keep me on the narrow way.

Photo by Vlad Kutepov on Unsplash