Here Am I, Lord, Thine Own To Bruise

Here am I, Lord, thine own to bruise
And bind up, only for thy use.
Chastise now my rebelling soul;
Whilst Thou woundest me, make me whole.

My feeble hands quicken and train;
Fix up these knees that eas'ly sprain.
Sheer me off the unrighteous path
Where endeth wrath for the fool's bath.

I grasp that he whom Thou lovest
When erreth him, Thou reprovest.
For good Thou wilt my style correct,
So I be found in Thee perfect.

Oh, how they fall that doth despise
Thy right statutes, Thy warning eyes;
They that Thy counsels loathe to hear
The wand'ring cat seekest to tear.

Here am I, Lord, born for Thy will;
Melt and morph me aright until
My parts adopt Thy chosen frame:
Faultless vessel, carved in Thy flame.

By Kingsley U. Ayistar ©2013