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Poem – I Pray A Prayer that Makes Me Ill
I pray a prayer that makes me ill;
It hurts to pray for those loved most.
Not praise, nor thanks, but needed still;
For hurt from Heaven’s Holy Host.
Strangely, grief leads to Christ’s glories;
God’s lifted high when we are low.
Breaking stubborn backs, bending knees;
Accepting, nowhere else to go.
This is the prayer that’s hard to pray;
And harder to mean than to say:
“God, whatever situation;”
“Put my dear ones where they need be;”
“Whether blessing or pain filled cauldron;”
“So to You they please finally.”
I pray this prayer that makes me ill;
Hurting deep down while on my knees.
“God break me” of my stubborn will;
You alone I desire to please.
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