O me! O life! of these questions profound,
Of struggles and trials that circle around,
Of hearts that falter, of faith grown dim,
Of void wandering souls, forgetting Him.

Of days that vanish like smoke in the air,
Of dreams once bright, now burdened with care,
Of voices crying, yet failing to see,
The grace that calls so tenderly.

That you are here, that life is given,
A gift of mercy, a glimpse of Heaven.
The powerful play of eternity goes on,
That wondrous sonnet, that beautiful song.
And you, yes you may lift up voice,
To know the great truth, it’s only your choice.
Because the play goes on without a rehearse,
Fix your eyes on Him, and to that play,
You may contribute a verse.

Some moments aren't forever,
some you wish were.
They aren't perfect,
but they don't need to be.
There wasn’t a photo taken,
there isn't a story to tell,
maybe its not even a strong memory.
They come naturally, like the wind,
ever changing, unpredictable, uncontrollable.
You wish to catch the moment in a bottle,
keep it on life’s evergrowing shelves.
To look at it, to live in it,
but you can't.
The reason why is known yet unknown,
you just can't.
Some moments can't be defined,
can't be contained.
Some moments were,
some moments are just,
nice while it lasted.

Content, I walk this path unknown,
For I am Yours, no more my own.
Let the world chase dust and flame,
For I have found a truer name.
So poor are they who grasp for gold,
And miss Your grace, Your gentle fold.
Content I am with breath and bread,
With twilight paths and peace when led.
Let gratitude be my anthem,
For You have paid my ransom.
Whether sorrow comes or joy surrounds,
Still steadfast shall Your grace resound.
No cry for more, no plea for less
My portion is Your faithfulness.
A thankful soul, a humble mind,
Yearning for lost sheep to find.
For this is what I seek to own,
Gifts of Your heart, my cornerstone.
So here I bow, and here I stay,
Grateful for You, every day.
I’m ever held in love divine,
Content to call Thy glory mine.
What more, O Lord, could I but miss
A Father’s love, a Savior’s kiss?
Let thankfulness be all I speak
For You, my Lord, are all I seek
I hear Your Words, as You say to me,
“The richest life is the one lived with me”

I say I believe, but what does that mean,
If to be His vessel fully isn’t my dream.
If my path hugs comfort, not Calvary’s hill,
Have I bowed my heart, or bent my will
Christ didn’t die for a nod and a phrase,
Or to sit on a shelf for ceremonial days.
He came to collide with the core of my being
To resurrect bones, giving blind eyes seeing.
Transformation is never mild or small.
It wrecks me, refines me, my knees to fall.
Then lifts me again with scarred, holy hands,
And calls me to follow, not merely to stand.
This faith isn’t stitched in Sunday routine,
In manicuring my life to appearance so clean.
It’s war in the dark where no one applauds,
It’s fire that consumes all masks and facades.
It’s drawing the lines that cost me the crowd,
It’s forgiving the one who won’t say it out loud.
It’s prayer in the quiet, when silence is loud,
It’s truth over trend, and faith that’s unbowed.
The call of gospel, tore the veil between,
It’s rushing like thunder beneath the unseen.
I can’t serve the King who hung and bled,
While feasting at tables where comfort is fed.
This gospel costs, it demands my all,
To rise when I’m weary, with grit and gaul
And I ask my soul what words can’t mask
Am I claiming Christ, or living the task
Do I wear His name while walking away,
Or bear His weight every step of the way
I can wear the cross, but must know this truth
It’s not in the symbol, it’s shown in the proof.
I don’t need to answer, not with my breath.
My life is the sermon and my walk is the test.

The Man who stilled the raging seas,
Who calmed the storm with whispered peace,
Stepped down into the flood of pain,
And bore the weight of our disdain.
The Man whose feet on waves were sure,
Chose sinking depths, our souls to cure.
He walked where mortal men would drown,
Then laid aside His heavenly crown.
The debt was ours, yet He alone,
Would face the wrath, would stand atone.
The spotless Lamb, the Holy One,
Would perish below a darkened sun.
The hands that healed, were pierced and torn,
The brow once kissed, with thorns adorned.
The voice that called dead hearts to rise,
Gave up His breath in sacrifice.
Yet in that grave, Love was not lost,
He rose again, our debt the cost.
Now mercy flows, the chain undone,
By Christ, the risen, conquering Son.
So when you fear the deep, the tide,
Remember Him, the Crucified.
For He who walked on waves so free,
Has drowned in love, for you and me.