The enemy delights on my temple, and when I feast on the world, he is the Host.
He cut off my nose in hopes that my anger would grow.
His hand clenches my liver and the other guides my tongue.
With every breath of his sweet air that I take, I deny the gift of life from my lungs.
And when I'm dead, will he be at the gates to represent me in the Lord's court in attempt to allegate?
With every step I take into the light, he fills my heels with lead.
But the Lord will make mine like Hinds' feet and rebuke the Devil's tread.



Friday 10 May 2024