The Love of Loves

By J. Randal Matheny © 2015

Of what does sin consist,
If not of self and pride,
To God a raised fist,
To flee from him and hide?

What then is love’s true seed,
But neighbor’s good and thought,
And more — the selfless deed,
To do whenever we ought:

To do, not merely feel,
For others what is right;
To act on need’s appeal,
Instead of carnal sight.

And glory’s constant stream,
Undimmed by earthly haze?
The one true God’s the beam,
That man might see and praise.

The love of loves is this:
To God be drawn in fear;
This turn of man is bliss,
To walk where he is near.

J. Randal Matheny

Be pithy.

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