I’m leading the church service on Sunday and, should you not be able to attend, thought i'd this poem by Steve Stockman which will be read during the service.
It is sometimes said that they don't write ‘em like they used to. I’m so very glad that actually, they do…
Beyond me
Beyond my comprehension
Beyond my understanding
Beyond my definitions
Beyond my highest efforts
Beyond my lowest fall
Beyond my morality
Beyond my most penitent call
In the midst of me
In the midst of my tears
In the midst of my frailties
In the midst of my fears
In the midst of my cheers
In the midst of my sighs
In the midst of my sinfulness
In the midst of my lies
Dying for me
Dying for the masks of fake
Dying for the distorted opinions
Dying for the promises I break
Dying for the words carelessly thrown
Dying for murderous thoughts within
Dying for adulterous looks of lust
Dying for my sin
In the midst you reach out
In the midst you offer grace
In the midst you throw your arms around me
In the midst you kiss my dirty face
In the midst you touch my soul
In the midst you cast your smile
In the midst you love this vagabond
In the midst you call me child
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment