My King

You are no respecter of persons.
You do not gaze uncouth
At heaps of hoarded wealth,
Nor crave to devour tender youth.

In You there is no shadow of turning.
You do not rise to set
As we frantically orbit your constancy
Spinning our dizzy, dancing minuet

And some of us fall broken,
Restless though we’re lame,
But You raise up the conquered,
And lend the indigent your name.

You exalt the humbled,
And Your heart stands for the poor
So they will stand inside Your grace,
Singing Your song forevermore.

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