Poetry

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Exalting You, Lord, is my place,
For I’m here, while You’re there
On the throne of Your grace,
Seeking to see to all my cares;

I extend my hands, in simple awe,
And only wish to touch You;
Mercy in Your hand, love as Your law;
I’m only drawn to what is true;

May this always be my place,
For this is why I’m made;
I’m a mirror of Your face,
Polished by blood of holy grade;

Your glory brings heartbroken joy;
I can barely stand the light;
But it’s all mine to enjoy,
To be strengthened by Your might.


© Bob Barra, 12-6-07

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