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Your presence is like a soft, sweet song
   Like a song skillfully played
Like the fragrance of the flowers on a warm spring breeze
   So is the aroma of your coming
And like a cool autumn morning
   So your presence refreshes and invigorates me
Yet who can control your coming?
   Or who may say, "You are here, no there?"
For you come like the rushing of the wind
   The effect is seen and felt, but it itself is unseen
No one can bottle you, or reduce your effect
   You are more than words and emotion combined
And even the words you give to us as a guide
   They are so limited compared to your expanse
How can I know you, what must I do?
   Should I sell all that I own to gain you?
I would gladly forsake all that I know
   That I might understand just one facet of your being
In vain men seek after treasure and power
   The whole length of their day is a lost cause
For they have chosen a foolish path
   Truly, they have abandoned wisdom and learning
Their hearts remain never satiated
   Wanting always more and more
How foolish are their actions and their deeds
   For suddenly they will be destroyed
All their bitter labour to gain what is meaningless
   Has been for another, to line the pockets of a stranger
If only they would have followed
   When you called and walked on
I find sympathy for them
   Compassion for the wayward soul
I ask that I might be used as a beacon of your glory
   A wonderful thing that you would use a worm such as I
For I am broken and filled with blackness
   I writhe at the stench from my soul
I have no use for my life
   My failures are replete
I come to you in my humbled state
   Brought low before all that see
I plead for you to bring meaning to this life
   Only you can redeem what is certainly lost
Your waters are full of life
   You refresh the weak and the weary
I must know you, I have no other purpose
   In your words are life and death
I will yet sing of your faithfulness
   Before all men will I lift up my voice
For truly you will bless me forever
   And I am yours from this day forth and forevermore

© 1998 (10 june) john r. chase

slowing starting to wake up, this is one of my modern day psalms, titled my initials in greek.