My God

These many promises

I have broken, You have kept

Are still seared into my soul

From steps to steps to steps.

While under the blanket of sovereignty

I try to hide my wayward heart;

Prone to wander into moral poverty

And pulled, in all directions, apart

Like a patient etherised upon a table

I do not move, but lay so still.

My condition seems ever more unstable,

But the outcome flows from Your immutable will.

Sometimes, through the haze, I hear You ask

To flex my hand, or wiggle my toes,

And for You I try to complete these tasks

Though whether I’m succesful, I do not know.

I believe I do the best I can,

Though I’m always at my worst.

I believe I’m guided by Your hand,

Though I grasp the others first.