Poems

Remind me of my sins; Known or unknown to me, Not so I can perish in guilt- But so my heart can rejoice in this; That you alone can redeem. Remind me of your grace; That saved me from the grave, Not as though I can’t fail, But so my heart can sing your praise […]

Who is worthy? Who can boast of perfection? You know the deal! It’s real. Neither you nor I, can hide from this truth. We claim to know; we claim to see, We stand atop a glassy sea, With a blurred reflection, that we can hit perfection. Down beneath this hidden grin Is the stench of

Chip! Chip! Chip! The chisel sings, Peeling off the scaly reem, breaking in and cutting deep. Chip! Chip! Chip! The chisel sings, Piece by piece, deep, There’s pain and surely agony, Coming from every “chiselling” chip. Chip! Chip! Chip! The chisel sings, What’s the point of all of this Have mercy, the mortal plea, But,

How long must we dwell “I’m a sinner,” to tell? Though true it may be, The Spirit’s fruit sets us free. As for those dead in Christ, In Him are forever alive, How, then, shall we have our breath Without the Word, our daily bread? In us, the Spirit rebirth A life set apart; the

When you think about the dead, The word they once said, The life they once lived, Whatever that may be, It’s all gone; they’re no more, like the passing of the wind. You are led to ponder; What’s life here, after all, The usual chase after vanity? Never enough; there’s more to do. Does anything

So, I took a turn, To follow the stately dos and don’ts I tried all I could but failed, as I should. Perfection seems one step ahead; Almost, but never there. In a mixture of pain and fear, I walked in the shadow of my desires. The streak of my failings Aligned perfectly with my

The mystery hidden, now a reality, when sinners received undeserved mercy. A promise made from the origin Now fulfilled in a saviour king. Call upon the heavy laden The Word of life, receive, Meet me by the river, The bank of our belief. Love is the origin, but death was the penalty, Salvation is the

At the bottom of the deep, Where you can’t have your keep, You lack a proud inn; even your sleep, And humility slips in. Down on your knees, Open your mouth in psalms and hymns, Repent at this moment- your sin, You’re not far from Him. How deep did you sink? Come to Christ, the