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 A Rhyme to God    
 

All God's speed, however fast
His mystic light, a shadow cast
Above my hopes, my fears and dreams
Lies God beyond what nature seems.
 
My prayers to Him, my sickness bled
I beg He Will my ego dead
My mind and heart are not divine
But live if I obey the rhyme.
 
And know the Bible's poorly read
Without belief is nothing said
But let His words command your deeds
And drag your cross to where it leads.
 
For pain is sent to let us see
What's clouded by complacency
That God is Good but not our wills
That selfish lap at satan's stills.
 
Or hurt that cools whatever joy
That drunk the selfish will employs
To further cloud what's hardly seen
Indifferent joy's a joy unclean.
 
So off with hate, and puerile will
To live His pure unselfish thrill
Opposed to slave mentality
Life pure and fresh, reality.


 
 
  [Mark Johnson, copyright 1997]