Like squatters, living filthily in the home you've built for yourself.
They may keep the wheels turning,
Paying rent by keeping you alert.
But my love, at what cost!
They are tearing apart your windowsills and leaving stains on your white carpet.
The grimy walls need hosing down and the kitchen appliances are being stolen.
Awake, landlord!
Your body is a temple, your mind a most Holy place.
Force out the deceitful tenants and fill your mind
With a hopeful little peace, with a crooked smile and freckled cheeks.
Fill your heart with calm;
I'll do my best to help.
Come, Lord Jesus, come.
No comments:
Post a Comment