What cruel-hearted fiend would fashion a soul,
only so it could bow and sing empty praise,
pretending that love is some worthwhile goal,
expecting satisfaction from meaningless days?
Not I! Tis not me who is blind and absurd;
I will not subscribe to such wretched design-
Infinite power in the breath of one Word,
What need of me could have the divine?
O Lord, spurn me not for rebellion and doubt,
You are mine, I am yours, allegiance I swear.
These fears that I harbor are death; drive them out!
And take me softly into your loving care.
A lover must question his love day to day,
And questions I keep, but with joy I obey.
9 April 2018
Copyright © J. I. Thomas F. | Year Posted 2018