I come a-courting
Once again
Within your hallowed halls
But this time
Not with pressing needs
Nor puzzlement, nor falls.
I only come to
Think on you
And all your mercy shown
To one so frail
And faltering
But still your child, your own.
And all around
Your handiwork
In nature’s shapes and hues
The big and small
You made them all
Your breath of life infused.
And evil days
And selfish ways
Will not upset your Goal
To raise up radiant Israel
By faith
In Christ made whole.
These halls are still
They offer rest
And insights rich, divine
And in this peace
The sure release
That such a God is mine.
(Philippians 4: 6,7)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem