Poetry

(1/31/12 - 2/5/12)
 
She and You: how can I ever compare? 
Or can I ever replace You with her? 
For my heart sings softly when she is there
But my soul shouts praises when You are near.
 
For the presence of her makes me so weak; 
She makes me as one on the ship: seasick
But her voice, though sweet, can't make me a wick
Nor can consume me like a burning stick.
 
But You, my Belov'd God, make my knees fall
And bow me low with the voice of Your call
For with Your majesty cries out my soul; 
My heart sings loudly, 'Holy, Lord of All! '
 
O how I am delighted by her face
But she can't turn my heart filled with Your grace; 
Yes, I loved her, but she can't take the space
Of my mind, outpouring with the Lord's praise!