O Lord Give Strength
Each day is replete with tribulations to endure,
can I compete often I am not sure.
Entombed in this frail tent is my soul,
only You can make it whole.
As I vent the promise of your covenant,
these words resound in my ears,
'Not by power nor by strength,
but by My Spirit your faith will suffice
when the world treads as slippery ice.'
O what is the fate when one sees his
or her soul mate dissipate in this tent of despair,
help us to regenerate before we meet you in Your heavenly gate,
the faith we once embraced,
that now falters as our years has robbed us
of a sound mind that served you over the years.
To him or her who has an ear to hear,
not the voice accusations,
for what one sees remains unseen is a soul,
your Lord considers not the years that has robbed you
of the your joy; I love just as much
when you gave your trust into My nail scarred hands.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem