Too busy to pray
The Word Merchant
As the sun rises from a blissful sleep, And dawns its light for all to see,
We dash from our beds like lightning bolts,
Without remembering to say hello.
The hustle and bustle that each day brings,
Is enough to keep our hearts from HIM,
So while we labour to make ends meet,
We forget that there’s someone we ought to greet.
From hold ups, to row calls,
From ward rounds, to lectures,
Each minute keeps us busy
That we forget to heed to HIS call
And then each night,
Just as the sun retires to bed,
Our minds finally calm down as we seek to rest,
And while the spirit is willing,
the flesh though is weak,
So we end up not praying, till it’s the end of the week.
Can we stop this vicious cycle?
Or is there not another way?
How would we stand in the day of battle,
If we always fail to pray?
No Storm in His Heart
Tortured by the strong winds, she thrashed
Twisting and turning, she sent waves rolling
Happy to do her bidding, the waters fought
Dashing against the little ship in fury The screams of the men mingled with hers
The roar of the waves creating a sweet
Yet tragic symphony
Tragic, for the lives to be lost
Sweet, for the soft snores of Another For there was no storm in HIS HEART.
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