Written on Retreat

Mine is a small heart, Lord.
How can I hope to contain
all that I learn?

You share with me
of Yourself;
I read and forget,
I pray and am forgetful:
mindless,
despairing of light.

But I remember this at least:
it is not I who must reach You.
It is You who has,
who does,
reach down to me
and touches my heart;
encouraging my feet
to walk a few more steps.

Stumbling, yes;
hesitant,
confused - certainly.

Yet in this
my heart seems
by degrees
to be enlarged - just a little.

I'm not sure I understand more
but I am more sure of You
and Your large heart
and I am 'strangely warmed'.


2009

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