This is something a little different as it is more like a hymn than a poem and I haven’t done one before, so I’d love some feedback for it. Thanks, hope you enjoy it.
My feet of clay have been set in stone,
Founded on one I can call my own,
For me, for me has he been lain down,
Beaten and cut by so sharp a crown.
The wooden beams that support my life,
Had been rotting, deep in sin and strife,
Now it is made of the greatest oak,
For Builder of man has donned the yolk.
My sword was rust, I could not defend,
Satan’s attacks that did my mind rend,
But granted now is a blade without peer,
For it holds the words that I love dear.
Though my mind has oft taken to drift,
And through the bowels of earth does sift,
You, I know, shall lift me from the mire,
And bring me up thy strength to admire.