The Measure Used to Mete Our Mercies

The pagan’s ploy is hard complaint,
His neighbors are stupid knaves and fools,
Lovers of truth he lambasts as judges,
His heady standard harshest in verdict.

God’s grace forbids we grumble and groan,
Both heart and tongue must be content,
Our words are weighed, kind, and willing,
To let the fullness of Christ shine forth.

The measure used to mete our mercies
Will many times to us return;
The truth in love finds love unlimited,
Small hearts descend to a stingy hell.

Please feel free to like, share or comment below. For more, see Cloudburst Poetry.

J. Randal Matheny

Be pithy.

2 thoughts on “The Measure Used to Mete Our Mercies

What do you think?