A Petition to the Comforter

Lord, teach us honest gratefulness

A little child's sweet faithfulness

Unfold from east to west

That first is not the best

Lift up from west to east

The station of the least

Convicting all who seek

That "blessed are the meek,"

That all must lay aside

The mask of gaudy pride.

Let not us lose but keep

The Shepherd's view of his sheep,

For whom those safe in fold

Do not his anguish hold.

His first thought is the lost

The wayward tempest-tossed,

Him whom the wolf still stalks

As through the wild he walks.

Heal in us that disease

That tempts us from our knees,

That tempts our tongue to spite

The widow and her mite.

Help bind from north to south

The devils of our mouth

And those from south to north

The truth that must go forth--

That Jesus bore our sin

That we might virtue win,

And bore our agony

That we might walk pain free;

Incurring all disease

To buy our bodies ease.

And so it came to pass

The First made Himself last  

Dying upon a cross

To give life to the lost,

 

Gene Pinkney (3-5-95)

 Copyright 2006 Gene Pinkney
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