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As I wrestled with him fiercely all day,
Thinking not he's my potter, and I clay.
My mind in one thing he only can give,
With earnest strife, I Know I'll receive.

I roared in impatience as days turn nights,
With hunger, red was my sight.
Pain and frustration in my ***** lingers,
Or was my sins behind why I'm hindered

Cognitively I received"not of work but of mercy"
For a sinner like  Me I've been too bold and feisty.
Hypocrite was I for to all world shown,
And always with pride I went to the throne.

Humbly I bow, when realisation  was dawn,
With my heart screaming for mercy, from my sin I turn.
Now as a son, with peace and boldness I go,
With power and authority I'll fight my foe.
The secret place of prayer.

His grace yet abound

— The End —