My poor hut doesn’t contain anything
Of which I can be rightly proud
No money, no gold, no furniture
Not even clothes to cover myself in culture
Everything here speaks of my poverty aloud.
But when you step into my abode
And command me a song to sing
Then my heart is filled with pride
My wet eyes, then I don’t care to hide
It’s my joyful honor to obey my King.
That’s when all that is discordant and -
Harsh in my life of
hunger and thirst
Melts into the sweet harmony of a hymn
Worship and adoration flow like stream
The singer within in pride would burst!
That’s when I get drunk with the wine
Of your presence and lose my bearing
And forget the huge difference between
Instead of prostrating at your feet, been
Calling you friend,
of deference not caring!
Fri, March 17, 2017
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