3/22/20 Through 3/28/20

3/22/20 Through 3/28/20

Sunday

When blinded to my sinfulness

My sin I never will confess.

I need the light of day to see

The darkness that envelops me.

He spit to make a paste of clay

Then smeared and said to wash away

With water from the sacred pool.

His simple efficacious tool.

Then all around was light of day.

The shroud of darkness washed away.

The Son of man revealed as He

Who heals and sets the captive free.

Monday

A new creation make of me

This sinner begs to be set free.

I want to see my slavery

As something past in history.

But fear that weakness will return,

For oh so long, I've tried to learn,

And many times have started well

To later on, my failures tell.

I offer Lord, imperfectly

My latest war on slavery

And beg that You create of me

One living in reality.

Reality of seeing through

The traps that Satan will construe.

Reality of seeing there

His hidden hook, or buried snare.

I'm powerless against these Lord

My weakened knees cannot afford

To face one devious as he.

I need the strength that comes from Thee.

My passions only magnify

My need for You to sanctify

My every moment of the day,

And learn to live a whole new way.

Tuesday

Let me stretch my roots to Thee

This desert heat is scorching me.

I need the waters of Your stream

To fill my heart, and soul redeem.

My branches brittle in the air

Of desert heat, and near despair,

But with Your waters cool and deep,

They bear abundant fruit to reap.

My leaves as medicine will grow

That healing graces men would know.

Each month a new fresh fruit You give

That hungry souls might feast and live.

Wednesday

So many chosen, shy away

But not the Virgin on that day.

The fiat that she gave so clear

Obliterated doubt and fear.

The heavens halted there above

To hear her selfless words of love.

"Let it be done as you have said"

Would cause the raising of the dead.

Conceive in me this very day

Such animation of this clay.

That God be praised in all I do,

And I reflect the face of You.

Thursday

In ninety days we gain a taste

Of forty wand'ring years.

We look to find our way in haste

And conquer all our fears.

But time amidst the desert sand

Is meant to build our trust

With manna every morning, and

Our faith in God, robust.

So we must not return to ways

Of slavery once free,

But find through sacrifice and praise

The joy we seek from Thee.

Friday

As yet the hour had not come

Despite the enmity of some.

He presses on to show the way

Until that darkest fateful day.

A failure shown to all that day.

"How dare He mock the way we pray?"

He held aloof from those thought wise,

And called us wolves in sheep's disguise.

Let's see how true this word of His,

And find out what true patience is.

When stripped and beaten, pierced and crowned,

We'll see if care for Him is found.

All blinded by their wickedness

They sought His proof of holiness,

And in the darkness thought they won,

As dead upon the cross He hung.

But three days hence the tide did turn

And ages since have come to learn

How empty are the evil ways,

And true His word for endless days.

Saturday

Let me not Your vengeance see,

Not even on my enemy.

For I wish none who act this way

Would face that awful, dreadful day.

When men like this You turn away,

"Be gone from Me!" They hear You say.

To never see Your humble face,

But live in permanent disgrace.

I shudder at so harsh a word

And pray that such is never heard

Among the members of my clan,

Or none since ever time began.

But You, we all must freely choose,

Or our eternal life will lose,

And find the avarice we sell

Becomes our everlasting hell.