Lent: Man of Sorrows 5

I cannot stop the tide of life:
                                       it moves
at speeds I cannot calculate;
                                            it twists
and turns and undulates. It thwarts
my best paid plans, my stern-set goals.
         Nothing in
this life bends to my will;
my trunk is buffeted too bluntly by these waves;
my fists smart from clenching at the sea.
                O take me –
      too sure of my own currents, too
   accustomed to storms – take
my drifting self-assurance; pilot
headlong all my debris and
    the flotsam, jetsam of my days
        into Your streams of praise.

Published by Matthew Pullar

Teacher, writer, blogger, husband, father, Christian. Living in Wyndham in Melbourne's west, on the land of the Kulin Nation. Searching for words to console and feed hearts and souls.

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