Altar-Gleam

Oh, Lord, it rends my soul to give this wish--desire--full away, Not clinging to a piece of hope; A piece that says, "Perhaps someday..." For now the thing--so frightening clear-- Is to release it dark and full and keep no sliver-thought of me, Though giving leaves a gaping hole. Desire--oh, how sharp the spears of joy that haunt this favorite dream. But am I Yours enough to push this treasure toward Your altar's gleam? The thund'ring toss of straining mind. The clashing knowledge: this is right. The heart's own cry: "Oh please, not yet!" The beckon of Your fire bright. No looking back, no holding on, I watch my treasure dance in flame. And then I feel inside my soul The power of your tender Name. I've given what was dearest mine But just before the wound bleeds free You staunch the flow and catch my heart And with Your Lover's arms hold me. What looks as ash is only just the dust from which Your plans arise And though I feel the burning here I know the mercy in Your eyes.