He shot His arrow to my heart,
Quivers to enter in my reins;
As my faith in Him does impart,
Cleansing of my corrupted stains.
I have become the laughingstock,
So much ridicule from others;
Their song all day merely to mock,
Of what my professing offers.
He has given me of my fill,
That had made me drunk with wormwood;
For the bitter herbs to instill,
Of what I spiritually should.
He grounds my teeth in gravel stones,
He trampled me into the dust;
I feel the breaking of my bones,
But my heart and mind will still trust.
He removed my soul far from peace,
And forgotten prosperity;
But my happiness will not cease,
Because of love and charity.
My endurance has expired,
And I have lost all of my hope;
But the Lord has still inspired,
To persevere while I cope.
I remember my condition,
Of which is a bitter poison;
Broken and homeless position,
During such a frigid season.
I think of what makes me depressed,
Still in remembrance as humbled;
Because of knowing I am blessed,
Prevents ever to have stumbled.
But this I recall to my mind,
As not at the end of my rope;
For I remain humble and kind,
Therefore, giving me a new hope.
His faithfulness is abundant,
And it is fresh with each new day;
Keeps me from being reluctant,
My trust in the Lord to obey.
Copyright © 2018 Richard Newton Sherrer
