The Wanting Soul

 

If I had faith just the size of a mustard seed,

Mountains would move at my command,

And my walk with God would be as on concrete,

And not the unsure footing of sand.

 

But where there's flesh and fallen nature,

Doubt is never far behind;

Fed by the seductions of this world,

It preys upon the mind.

 

This is when hearing a million incredible stories

Makes cynicism carry the day,

And only the material seems real

And the worldly becomes the way.

 

It is when sin comes like a siren,

Urging me along,

And I so want to go where it would take me,

Even though I know it would be wrong.

 

But in my finer moments,

When your mysticism meanders in,

The everyday becomes astounding

And dwarfs the appeal of sin.

 

That's when your great perspective

Makes the ordinary seem odd,

And I know that it's not of my own design,

And that you, my Lord, are God.

 

 

Selwyn Duke

 

 http://selwynduke.homestead.com/

 

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