Low and Behold
In the early morning hours
I come to meet the Lord.
Yearning for a touch,
I press my face upon the floor.
I confess my sins and faults,
I weep and break before Him.
He takes my great contrition,
And a wondrous grace flows in.
I find no greater entrance
To the Father’s throne of grace
Then when I come and bow so low,
I am stretched out, on my face.
He knows true repentance,
Whether real or feigned.
He yearns for earnest prayers
Where blessings start to reign.
Be laid out before the Lord
And He will surely take His cup
And pour upon you blessed hope
That will revive and fill you up.
Copyright © Tom Valles | Year Posted 2024
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