That which I would not, that again I do”
Paul, the apostle, fought it just like I:
That stubbornness his own course to pursue,
Having it “my way, flying my own sky.
Lord make me glad to take your righteous path
Take all my proud rebellion from my choices,
Too many days are wrapped in aftermath,
Because I heeded pride’s seductive voices.
A path bends off I know full-well is wrong
And know full-well a better course to steer.
Yet, like a dog who hears some feral song
Slinks off, pretending master not to hear,
I seek my own, rebellious, fancied cheer
Risking all comfort simply not to hear.
Impaled with thorn and my besetting sin
I choose rebellion’s way to my chagrin
I could have gone
the way Wisdom had shown
But chose the road
to ruin; ‘twas my own.
© 2006 Gene Pinkney
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