My Father

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MY FATHER

My Father has a two edged sword,

It’s forged by speaking out His Word.

He wields this sword at my behest,

But I must voice out my request.

 

 

This sword can stay my fiercest foe,

For by His Word, satan must go,

Though he may bluff and boast his fame,

He cannot stand ‘gainst Jesus’ Name.

 

 

Though I may have no strength nor might,

My Father will take up my fight,

And when I call upon the Lord,

This very action lifts His sword.

 

 

I bow my knee to God alone,

And place my cause before His throne.

My brother Jesus meets me there,

And promises my load to share.

 

 

In fact He takes the load from me,

And lifts my head, that I might see,

A little of His joy and hope,

He wants me to do more than ‘cope’.

 

My Father bids me curl up tight,

And snuggle in His arms at night.

He sees my empty, gaping, space,

He pours in love, and with it grace.

 

 

He understands my doubts and fear,

And lovingly, He draws me near.

He teaches me with patience great,

I learn that I, on Him, must wait.

 

I wait on Him, for every need,

And on His Word must daily feed.

Until I with His love abound,

I cannot, truly, share it round.

 

 

Although I shrink to feed ‘just me’,

His greater picture, I must see;

If His love to the world, I’d spill,

I first must eat and drink my fill.

 

 

And though this sounds a selfish quest,

It’s only then I’ll do my best.

We cannot give out what’s not there,

We need to really know – to share.

 

© 3-4/4/97