fret not yourselfthe multitude of your faults
are well known
don't try to hide them
tiresome efforts are in vain
their stench gives them away
strive no more
their stain goes deep
penetrating your soul
bow down low
look up high
here your blessed recourse
look into His eyes
full of lover's longing
seeing only grace
feel His arms
reaching out to hold
the embrace of forgiveness
know perfect love
not earned, not bought
but received in faith
and rest
Labels: imperfect prose