Poetry

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I shall not only survive but thrive;
Not by my ability or productivity;
But by His light and His might and verve;
Even though my foes rave and connive.

Let them scheme, wheel and deal.
There’ll be a way when I pray.
Let them stem and afflict, but He will heal.,
I’ll be raised when I praise, He says.

I have a seasoned Advocate
Who daily pleads my case.
His blood for all sins placate.
My sins He completely erased.

So I stand, free and acquitted.
Adorned with the robe of righteousness;
Cleansed of all iniquity attributed.
All because of His loving -kindness.

Without a doubt, the Accuser is the loser
The sinner has been turned into a Saint.
My Master is Author and Finisher;
So I press on without fear, without faint.

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