Will it come? Psalm 51:16-17 

16 Certainly you do not want a sacrifice, or else I would offer it;
you do not desire a burnt sacrifice.
17 The sacrifices God desires are a humble spirit—
O God, a humble and repentant heart you will not reject.

 

An attitude that trembles before God after having sinned

and a fearful expectation ... when God shall come again?

A knowing that depravity ... still boils deep within

and that part won’t go away, as you wish, it had never been.

 

The sin that easily besets me ... is waiting at the gate.

It is not but a hundred ... weaknesses I count.

If I am in the neighborhood ... it checks me off its slate.

Corrupt to the core I am ... engrained in every pound.

 

Even in repentance, I can't find ... that special gift of God.

My prayers seem hollow then ... for self is in the way.

He will not provide at will ... whenever I am a sloth.

Forgiveness does not come at once and waits for a better day.

 

It is like a bearing that fails ... and just grinds away

until it is red and hot ... and burns the paint to fade.

It almost looks so natural ... like it always was that way.

I am so used to falling short ... it seems a part of my slate.

 

Life goes on as death exists ... imprinted in the forever.

Nothing new under the sun ...  all have been here before.

How can one look at man’s fear and be reminded of the never

in all the works that are done ... oft so fruitless an encore?

 

Hardened souls and indifferent minds ... right below the surface.

Only to be brought out ... when death runs its course.

Seems that all of it ... grinds slowly to its purpose

that was set when time began ... when we lost our remorse.

 

Adam fell and then he blamed God for his own shortcomings.

Things since then have not changed ... as it seems the same today.

I won’t take the proper response ... for my misguided ability

which I direct from the outer me ... for that is the human way.

 

Oh “poor me” the saved! Why can I seldom find you?

Don’t you know that you propose ... to direct my path?

Without you I am vile and just cannot find simple truth

being lost in my pretenses ... being molded by my past.

 

Failures upon failure are my accomplishments indeed.

The more I try to glory in achievements that appear.

The more it makes me realize ... that on itself it feeds

and the degradation in the soul expands without any fear.

 

The end of the day is just that and not the beginning of the night.

The night is in the day embalmed interwoven with your pride.

Looking from the front ... all you see sparkles in your plight, 

but when it turns its back ... only darkness seems to ride.

 

To separate the two ... takes much more than mankind

to cut in half what is joined ... by strings of the temporal.

Even time cannot erase the imprint of the profound

for the call of its purpose ... was set in the abnormal.

 

Jan Wienen