Run the Race
Where tender shoots each day birth new mercies,
cultured in your word, my young spirit grows.
From sun up, to down, your Spirit rises,
I find myself humbled by your incense.
I heed not to tread on the serpent's path,
for the weathered road is rarely righteous.
Though deep pits and snares lie in wait for me,
Salvation's call guides me not to stumble.
In arduous times, you bring me a friend,
someone to share life's treasures and beauty.
My heart is overcome with joy for God,
for he has blessed me in my downcast state.
Aged I am, but ever new by his grace,
I attend to my own kin, my own flock.
In turn, God shines favour on my own kin,
and they too, go have kindred of their own.
For as I have not strayed from you, Lord God,
they too, have not departed from your ways.
These years I have sought your face, ran the race.
Now, hold me in your arms, and take me home.
03.09.2024
Copyright © Charlotte Watkins | Year Posted 2024
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