Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all
that is within me, bless God’s Holy Name.
Bless your Harbored Hope,
oh harrowed heart, and forget not
the Anchor of your mooring.
The One who formed you has not forsaken;
your failures no longer define.
As far as the east lies from the west,
farther still shall our sins be removed.
The bridge of grace,
unhinged by rage,
will be restored.
Now parched with fear, your withered throat
shall be quenched with a torrent of goodness.
Your fractured limbs and frail bodies
are destined for healing relief.
Vindication is coming, you victims of torture!
The blaze of Heaven marks the way to mercy.
The One we adore is mercy-full and gracious,
slow to anger and confounding with love.
God will not always accuse nor foment in anger.
God has no score to settle, no payback to unleash.
Like a father rejoicing in wombish disclosure,
like a mother’s delight
in her newborn’s first wail,
So your Maker exults in each heart’s full exposure
to reverent ovation and wonder’s avail.
©Ken Sehested @ prayerandpolitiks.org. Inspired by Psalm 103:1-14.