The chisel is sharp, the hits are hard.
You strike like a wise sculptor.
The healing comes through what's scarred
Like Your wounds, O Master.
The clay is squeezed and spun.
Water floods to overwhelm.
Marrs are taken, we're undone.
It's not ours to keep the helm.
It is Your eye that sees the product,
As complete and finished.
What the world has sought to reject,
You declare full and unblemished.
In You, we are complete,
Those who are Your children.
Made worthy to be at Your feet,
When we're no longer pilgrims.
The pressure we feel is Your hand,
Molding us in love.
You move to help us heed Your command,
We are borne above.
So we wait upon Your plan,
Only moved by holy winds,
To make us like the Son of Man,
Healed from our sins.
Let our waiting be thanks to You,
Moved to praise Your name.
Have joy in us, being made true,
With You as our aim.
© 5-28-08
A contest entry
- Place of Prayer Group Members Only #54 by Samplette.
600 points, ended June 7, 5 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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An awesome write Bob...beautiful as always. Thanks for sharing and entering our groups contest.
Sam
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To make us like the Son of Man,
Healed from our sins.
my favorite line
excellent write as usual.
God bless...
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Awesome job, so truthful in how God chisels away the bad a d dead adnleaves what has been refined.
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This is a beautiful piece!
This is a wonderful psalm of praise to our Master! This is surely how He shapes us to conform into the image He desires! I noticed a typo you might want to correct:
Water flloods to overwhelm. Trust you'll do well in the contest!
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