Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Confession Again.

In silence does he come unto thy feet
For his own words cannot be held to truth.
He weeps and shudders, and falls to his knees,
Kneeling and groveling, fears of thy Truth.

Eyes gaze downward as his head lowers more
And his sins so recent, the blood still warm.
How can thou forgivest this very one
Who brings thee only this scourge of thine harm.

I confess to Thee that it was but I
Who hath whipped and strucketh thee just now.
If it was not for my loss of control
I would only stuck thee once for the show.

It is my fault, I am to blame for this.
But Thou dost place a hand upon my sorrow.
I am Thine to crush or bless at Thy whim.
But I fear I shall strike Thee tomorrow.

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