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Blind Bartimaeus

He'd been sitting in the dark of the wilderness too long
Perched on a dead tree like a bird with no song
He heard of the words king David had said
The righteous is not forsaken nor his seed begging bread
Yet he sat under the worlds table dying for crumbs
While life beats up on him like an African drum
But the sound is not one pleasant to the ears
More like an old rusty horn dormant for years
So with Jesus drawing near, the obvious choice
Is to make certain He can hear his voice
Louder than the doubt that He would even care
Louder than the fear warning him to beware
Screaming as his past, rehearses his faults
Pushing past the guilt of the sins he had wrought
Ignoring the shouts of his unworthiness
The closer He draws, the more he did press
Finally it happened, Jesus heard his cry
His circumstances taunted He had passed him by
But the voice of the spirit calls ďHe beckons youĒ
My child what would you have me do?
Lord that I might see; I receive my sight
No more fumbling like a fool in the dead of night
Lord that I might look upon your face
No longer see guilt, shame, and disgrace
That I might see myself Lord as you see me
Redeemed, restored, and totally set free
More than a conquer, a victorious one
An ex slave to sin, set free by the Son
A child of the most high, a light on a hill
The Holy Spirits Temple, displaying His seal
Blind Bartimaeus, an example to all
He didn't let circumstance silence his call
Instead he cried out all the more
And let nothing stop his plea to the Lord

J. Moore

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Blind Bartimaeus