Kate/ May 26, 2018/ Poetry, Uncategorized/ 0 comments

It's vanity to think that I can offer anything
Of import or significance to the Source of everything
My praise, my efforts, and my prayers are made possible by my King.
There is no gift that comes from me, no self-made offering.

The life I live, the air I breathe -
The lungs and voice that let me speak -
I give to Christ, not from my strength,
But since he all these things did make.

My selfish heart is made of stone
It's turned to flesh by God alone
No thing I've said, nor thing I've done
Can make me please him, but Christ alone.

No songs or special words I sing
No garb I wear, or gold I bring
No charity or almsgiving
Apart from the Spirit is pleasing.

Our God does not delight in words
Repeated, so we may be heard
He wants our spirits - humble, contrite -
This is a pleasing sacrifice.

He knows our needs before we ask
To answer, for him, is a simple task.
We please him not with human striving
But our surrender, in him abiding.

In our silence, he will work within
In the quiet, deal with all our sin.
If we will simply to him yield
And let him be our strength, our shield.

The Christian life that bids us strive
Is not of the Spirit, but fleshly pride
In humility, into Christ we press
And let the Spirit do the rest.

For out of rocks, our Christ can call
Praises to the God of all.
Heartless chants and facades of love
Are clanging symbols to God above.

Our hearts, our childlike offerings
Of trust and faith are beautiful things.
More precious than silver or diamond rings
Are praises from the mouths of tiny beings.

And like these tiny ones, so we -
To reunite with God must be.
Recognizing that our minds
Are to things infinite lost and blind.

Our minds were made to reason, yes
But the ways of God surpass all this
He works in ways we cannot see
And unlike we, reasons infinitely.

© 2018 Kate Richardson All Rights Reserved



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