3/3/19 Through 3/9/19
Sunday
For number one, it's self-control,
Or lack thereof, that plagues the soul.
The trifles that persuade the will
Give only but a moments thrill.
No leader be if they are blind.
If so, then none would ever find
The place of peace for which they vie
When plank and beam are in the eye.
Monday
Attachments, I have many Lord,
But none more great than You.
To lose, I think I can't afford,
But wish to make them few.
Let me not turn sad away
And cling to flow'rs that fade
But make my will to give away
And do as You have bade.
Tuesday
Quite generous in one respect,
But have I done what You expect?
Great blessings still abound for me
While others live in poverty.
I want dear Lord that final gift.
So if again, my soul You sift,
I trust You know, best what I need
To let my soul be fully freed.
Wednesday
Renew me Lord in greater ways
Than e're I've been before.
That all throughout these forty days
I wish to love You more.
But more than forty days I need
To change this life for me.
Athirst for You to then proceed
To be what I should be.
Thursday
The cross a mystifying sign.
A way repugnant oftentimes.
A way I shun in urgency,
Because beyond, I fail to see.
Each time rejected clear I see,
That pride is what took hold of me.
In shame and nakedness I flee,
From beauty that created me.
The loveliness my heart desires,
Comes from what the cross requires.
A soul obedient and true,
That learns to love the way You do.
Friday
A fast acceptable to Thee
I pray, at last, this Lent will be.
That I would take Temptation's hour,
And use it to display Your power.
That somehow in my everyday,
The fast would make me stop and pray,
Would call to mind my wretched state,
Then selfishness and greed abate.
Saturday
Weak and shameful, I have failed
Again to heed the grace
My strength it seems with age has paled
And left me in disgrace.
What love like His will once again
Forgive the weakly one?
If pride is shed with hubris then,
He welcomes back a son.
Saturday
Weak and shameful, I have failed
Again to heed the grace
My strength it seems with age has paled
And left me in disgrace.
What love like His will once again
Forgive the weakly one?
If pride is shed with hubris then,
He welcomes back a son.
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