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.