The Hard One Poem by Austyn Chimbuoyim

Torn between two courses Is my soul, making to row Can't do both with a given success Can't leave both without a predicted failure.

Wide awake of what I am, A wretch deserving no iota of kindness And not forgetting who I am Imago Dei perfect'd in Christ

A humble act may be, the former But I know my place: crown prince's And why should I not mine take? Since the humble knows and takes his place

Is it ever a right so solemn, A claim to mercy unprecedent'd? Or a mere privilege giv'n and taken, The state of Sonship already paid for?

Certainly I should either, forfeit: A bowed head or the one raised high. Still torn between two courses, Which eventually brings the goal?