Strength Of Grace Poem by Broken Shell

It's in the moments when I've not known what to do,
where the evidence of grace prevailed and carried through.

Christ once said, “My strength is made perfect in your weakness.”

I can look to where I haven't seen with my natural eyes before
and understand it perfectly.

That special living bread broken on the cross to feed a dying world hungry for a pardon we never deserved from the sins we couldn't escape any more than day escapes the sun.

That special living bread, the living stone in the shepherd boy's sling
and song to calm the troubled king from a humble harp strung with string and humble heart of praise to sing.

From the weak depths of the deep well where Joseph's brothers' jealousy fell, rose the governor who from prison prevailed.

I see that pure white, wool white hair on the Ancient of Days

when I see the weakness of the lamb just three days

before the Hand of Grace so omnipotently raised

the precious seed of David's heart to inherit eternal glory in the prepared place.

Hands, instinctively, knowing from some place before we were born,
raise to heaven, raise to heaven.

Knees, knowingly, support the fallen body.

Waiting, waiting for the renewal of strength.

How long, how long comes the cry from under the altar.

Prayers from centuries past like perfume and smoke.

Angels see how we respond to our maker and learn ever more
the wisdom, the glory.

I'd rather glory in my weaknesses that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

In my weaknesses, the very strength of God is made perfect, whole, complete, mature.

So when I'm weak, then I'm strong.

When I fail, then I win.

For the strength that raises one will raise us all!

This is the hope of glory living within.

Forgive me when I rely on my own strength.

For I'm never stronger than when I'm weakly, humbly
depending on your strength of grace.