It is not often anymore that I write anything of a poetical nature, but this morning am posting a poem that I wrote several days ago.
When life's pleasures I come to crave,
Remember this – O my soul – He died to save!
Though often I know I fail Him the most,
Yet still He loves me amidst His great host.
For the sword of justice would not rest,
Till it was planted in Jesus' breast.
His precious blood fully shed upon the tree,
Fully bathed me by grace so free.
So that while now often vile and helpless we,
One day fully clothed in glory be.
Till then the pleasure that I crave most,
Is that in life and song of Him we boast.