Like hypocrites at the synagogue,
the heart is extremely wearied
by its moral performance,
at the pews, I carry the
the obedience of troubled evils
measuring the worthiness of my tired attempts ,
crying & wishing that by my concerted olympics,
and the resume of my prudish heart
I may be vindicated into the heavenly paradise.
At the centre of my supplications:
My moral strength &
many delusions of beauty…
Rescue my heart,
heal it from its schemes of salvation,
and in prayer,
by your deep compassion for me,
Immerse my growth,
Strictly & only in Christ…
and when I relapse again,
with disproportionate mourning over
the errors of my heart,
touch me tenderly in my conscience,
encourage me to achieve not the moral ambition of the will (power)
but cause me to find you again
in quiet repentance & grace,
and with every sobering encounter,
elevate my wisdom of YOU,
So I may live the rest of my days,
in reverent fear.
From trial to trial,
grief to grief,
death to death,
Gracious tempest,
I am your child,
Saved, forever & always,
in your name, and your name alone.
