The Call
The voice was still, yet shook the skies,
A whisper wrapped in thunder’s cries:
“Come, bearer of the broken heart, Lift up your cross — and not in part.”
With trembling hands and faltering breath,
I stepped into the path of death,
Where every step, though steep and grim,
Was lightened by a trust in Him.
The Way
The path was rough with stone and thorn,
And shoulders, weary, bruised and torn,
Yet in the burden, mystery—
That weight became my liberty.
The world would laugh, the proud would scorn,
Yet by this cross, my soul was born.
For faith is not a painted sigh;
It is to live, and bleed, and die.
The Cost
O many flee when flames arise,
And seek their crowns by easy guise.
But love will pay the dearest price—
It fashions life from sacrifice.
Not hollow words or grand pretense,
But scars worn in obedience;
Not shallow creeds nor fleeting aims,
But fires endured in Jesus’ name.
The Boldness
So raise the banner, bold and bright,
Through storm and shadow, bear the Light!
Not in the strength of fleshly hands,
But armed in trust that Christ commands.
Speak truth though nations rage and roar;
Stand firm though hell may shake the floor.
Yet let not pride corrupt the song—
The mighty boast is still all wrong.
The Humility
For what have I but borrowed breath?
A clay-made soul, deserving death.
Yet Love, unearned, has clothed my shame;
And Mercy calls me by His name.
Thus let me walk with bowed head low,
Though flames may dance and tempests blow.
Let courage wear a servant’s face,
And strength be clothed in quiet grace.
Fear and Trembling
And when I come before His feet,
Where thunder, silence, judgment meet—
No proud defense, no loud acclaim,
No boasting lips shall speak my name.
But fear and trembling fill the air,
As glory burns beyond all prayer.
And grace alone shall make me stand,
A cross still graven on my hand.
