Wilt Thou fashion this token a place
And brand the outcome a hymn,
It'll hone my zeal to cling to thee
And speed, from sin, to thee my pace
I have grown a tree of qualms in me
That trips my feet on this race I run
But, make me more of thee to be
And love me as Thou lovest Thy son
Do not allow the owl in me to hoot;
Bring to ruin what I've built of yore
But, like a nightingale, let my song be tuned
Even now as I turn a score
I know not if at that sacred door I stand before
So I comport here as I will beyond
Happy Sunday guys.
Hope you love my Sunday poem.
Poem was inspired by my preacher....