He wishes he could break his curse,
And shake the sins his passions nurse;
But here he lay- mere broken reed-
Iniquitous and full of need.
And even as I write this verse
His sins it seems are growing worse;
Its growth- by leaps and massive speeds-
Will ruthless come 'til Jesus leads.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem