Every supplicant soul

Come, oh come, every supplicant soul, remember—how tender!—the story foretold.

The story—such splendor!—of love so astounding, of mercy resounding and pardon abounding.

Confounding the ransom of death’s dark dominion; restoring, imploring the earth’s fertile care.

Restoring, imploring, no heartache ignoring, all hands now adoring, each heart raised in prayer.

Take flight, oh my soul, when tempests besiege and temptations ensnare, and steal away home to Jesus.

Rejoice and be glad, though the path lies uncertain, when predators stalk and the night like a curtain eclipses direction and threatens affection.

The seedling now breaks through the barren one’s shame. Insurrection now gathers the shunned and the lame.

That story—sweet surrender!—of Heaven’s affair with all flesh-given creatures now standing as heirs to the Reign of God’s rapture and radiance and care.

©Ken Sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org. Inspired by the Negro spiritual, “Steal Away.”