By J. Randal Matheny © 2015

God knows, much better than I,
What I am made of, whence
I came — why things go awry —
To make of this world some sense.

God works, from heaven’s height —
Through hours and days and years —
To pierce the dark with light,
And dry my bitter tears.

God loves, with a love I prove,
Its fullness only taste —
In Christ I breathe and move —
And pray I may not waste.

What do you think?

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