Wasted minutes turn hours & hours to days
Complacency is a fool's game
I grow fat & ugly & out of touch
Easily grounded in familiar ruts
I rely on my eyes which cannot see
Trusting my heart which tends to deceive
I brush off the thought that God looks down
As I'm lazily selfishly milling around
Will pain be my prod, will grief give way
Forcing my hand, making me obey
Or will I wise to the task prescribed for me
And respond to a love given sacrificially
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