|
||||||||
|
I cry out unto the Lord, Pleading for Him to come quick; Letting not me be ignored, Because I am feeling sick. He needs to open His ears, In order to hear my cry; And taking away my fears, Anxiety makes me sigh. I hope that my prayer request, He is able to accept; Knowing I have done my best, For following His precept. On my mouth I set a guard, To keep watch over my tongue; For what I say can be hard, To control what might be flung. I want to resist the devil, Not letting him to persuade; In doing something evil, That I rather to evade. A righteous person am I, God corrects me with kindness; And will never question why, Because of having blindness. When the judges are thrown off, They listen to what I say; Because they have heard me cough, While I kneel as to pray. It sounds pleasant unto me, As someone plows up the ground; Because the seed will soon be, An ample harvest abound. My eyes look unto the Lord, I am comforted within Him; If I stay in one accord, I will not be feeling grim. So I avert from the trap, That wicked people lay out; Requesting the Lord to zap, For erasing any doubt. Copyright © 2017 Richard Newton Sherrer Vote for this poem
|
|
|||||||||
| |