Sonnet 41

Bountiful table for me you have set
Delectable bread from your hand to mine.
Much more from your hand can I always get
You’re constantly giving all that is thine.
Even with heaven’s bread that is so good
There’s oft’ an ill voice that stirs in my heart.
With gratitude gone it says that I should
Decry the goodness you’ve giv’n on my part.
Your beauty before me captures my sight,
Yet something within me longs far to run,
To seek other pleasures in darkest night
Instead of sweet mercies found in your Son.
Lord, light this dark heart that evil’s long led.
Let me dine solely on your living bread.

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