Wems Henry Temmy Psalm 27
Hold my head up to the top
Keep polishing my flimsy flop
Hold my mind tight to think straight
That with my brain, both in league, inflate
Hold my thoughts to meet meanings
On the road out of the tunnel's screenings
Hold my heart to sink deep inside Yours
And stop wandering in canals' cures
Hold my chest at peace with Thy paints
Even if I am not one of those saints
Hold my hand; a tool to ink clues
That can save dying souls of blues
Hold my ears hostage to insure my heart
Which build up every muse into an art
Hold my nose to perceive the ugly
To rub off dirt nature embraces snugly
Hold my eyes to see how trouble unfolds
But never possibly know how it moulds
Hold my mouth to shout hallelujah
How I am set free of Delilah's hysteria
Hold my tongue to the deep end of judgement
With You only can I make proper adjustment
Hold my oesophagus to silent movement
That draws nearer pantry's abandonment
Hold my stomach to the manna
Of abundance on my Savannah
Hold my office to good use
To avoiding coincidental abuse
Hold my legs to walk in glory
Growing greatness, not story
Hold my nails to keep steadfastness steadily
In the face of peace like war, beeping readily
Hold my back to get Thee, Thy backing
Through grace, in cracking poster(s) tracking
Hold my all and it will be noticeably sure
In You alone, oh Lord lies every echt cure!
Hold my faults onto the everlasting cross
No one else is worthy to take Thy place, Boss
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