Poetry

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(3-1-04, from Isaiah 42:3)

“My heart is a torch,
Ablaze for your care;
My mouth’s an igniter,
To ignite you with holy air.

“My hands have a balm,
To heal your horrid bruise;
What was left behind,
From sin’s ghastly ooze.

“My joy is to hold you,
To care for your wound;
My love’s your heart’s healer;
I so love to see you swoon.

“So, please, come unto Me,
With heart’s dying ember;
My love restarts the blaze,
For you, I so remember!”

His child, I’m now a torch,
Burning for your care;
My lips’ a firestarter,
To warm with blessed air.

My pen is Gilead’s balm,
To heal your slighted heart;
To show you how His love,
Is one to never part!

His grace greatly abounds;
It, our life’s rebound,
As His angels rightly praise,
And, with praise, resound.

His joy is to have you,
He paid for your wound;
His heart’s your heartstarter,
He’d love to see you swoon!

So, please, go to Him,
With your heart’s cold ember;
His Spirit rebirths the blaze,
On the cross, you, He remembered.

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