Pretending to be a Poet

Thank You, Father, for having mercy on me,

a soul.

Unworthy of any degree of clemency 

and full

of sin and self-love which renders me

despicable 

before the mercy seat.

Trivial?

Are my sins so minute as to cause

an overlooking, a pardon?

Nay, for my hands are wrapped in gauze,

from the atrocities I have done.

So what is this mercy

that overwhelms my sordid heart?

Wider than a sea

more beautiful than art.

Mercy is ignited in Your words like a flaming coal

which say that Your calling and gifts

are irrevocable.

Your words which say that we were consigned

To disobedience for all of time

"that He may have mercy on all".

Oh

the depths and riches

wisdom and knowledge

of God!

My heart fixes

its gaze upon His face

and discovers His judgments

inscrutable and unsearchable

He tore down the fence

that made Him unapproachable

and this mercy, 

mercy

pure and sweet,

is never ending

as I bow down at the mercy seat.