SAINTS' RESOURCE P
What could have been so precious in a worm
That took the prince of God
To search from the beginning of the world to the end of it?
Amidst the thick yelling and crowd of discouragement
Searching for ordinary worm;
rebellious worm for the matter!
Friends, What could be so precious in a worm?
My guidance told me
That little worm was me!
It baffles me,it really baffles me!
His patient patience,
Thrills me a lot, really thrills me a lot!
He sat calmly with commitment,
With love’s thought by the compartment
That holds the grains of my life.
Days, weeks, months and years
Flooded with the pebbles of mistakes
Made by ignorance,
And that imported by inheritance.
Mixed with stones
And sands in their grades,
Some fixed up by neighbour’s pains
And other raised by head’s wrong rains.
Settled within and clouded by contamination and infectious dust
By which peace was alien
In the lands of hope.
The grains of my life were laden with mass of strangers
That rate me” hopeless!
But my saviour sat by it patiently,
And folded his sleeve carefully
Undaunted saviour, committed by love,
picked all big and small pebbles
And sieve the stones and sands riddles;
He gently winnowing the dust of life
Dispel the cloud from future
And swallowed by the firmament of His love.
Days and years had passed by,
Committed still is the saviour of life.
By the zeal that still rank real;
As like the day He met my wretched soul.
Watching over these grains carefully.
And picking old and new foreigners constantly.
Because there is a goal, a real new kind
In his wonderful mind.
He wants me in the market of life valuable,
In the kings palace, honourable.
And to the stranger, lovable.
To the fools, reasonable
To the wise commendable
To little children, tender and available.
To the elite, knowledgeable
To the illiterate, learning simply
And to my wonderful God, humble, obedient and teachable
He wants me to be all things to all men in all situations at all time!
Yet more to do with this life of mine
He gently fans the grains of my life
And keeps in the silos of holiness!
Constantly advice, the absence of moisture of sin
And deprive the weevils of corruption of bad habits
To destroy the strength of his own.
This patience of his love
And by this, He got me committed
I long to have similar patience
In the deep sincere platform of my heart
To the wretched gleaner, called hopeless
Seeking to give hope!
To hardest sinner,
Hung on the cross of pains,
Seeking in love to save!
And to the zealous persecutor!
Drilling in love’s of prayer
Gently patiently and wisely
Directing the little children
If be a leader,
I shall raise hope and peace
And bringing valuable attributes
Out from all I lead.
It takes thrilling patience
To make wretched wealthy
Poor rich, hopeless hopeful,
Dung dweller, palace owner.
To make relatively small things incredibly big,
It takes thrilling saviours love’s patience
To take me from the grave
Into His marvelous grace
It takes thrilling patience!
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