Poetry

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Perfectly Imperfect

I know my only will is to be
God's perfect soul in eternity,
But here on this earth I fall far short
Of anything of that kind or sort.

My imperfections, God knows abound,
Mistakes everywhere can always be found.
My will is strong, but my body's weak,
So often I have to fall at His feet.

I chide myself and frustrations come quick.
I ask myself, "How can you be so sick?"
Then I look to the Lord's love in His eyes,
And no longer can I myself despise,

Because only He was the perfect One,
And at the setting of the sun,
It's my heart He looks into and there He sees
My soul and my tears and my lonely pleas,

To be forgiven for all my wrongs,
And He sings me His Redemption songs.
His heart goes out to me, so wide,
Because He knows I'm on His side.

He knows that in my frail humanity,
I'll never be all I want to be,
And with calm assurance comforts me,
And tells me, "Not you, but only we."

And I know I go down this road not alone,
But though willing, I will always be prone,
To be imperfect in my own eyes,
But perfectly imperfect until I die.

And my sins, past, present, and future,
Will always be covered in the picture
Of Jesus Christ's bloodied form on the Cross,
And never again will I ever be lost.

copyright 2008 by Brenda LaVelle

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