Dost Thou, Lord, command me to bring,
An offering into Thy presence?
What gift is as sacred as Thou?
Though made up of earth’s fleshly essence?
And Thou hast been known to consume,
Who offered a gift not deemed worthy,
As Cain was expelled from his home,
Uzziah Thou struck with leprosy.
And too, Ananias was slain,
And Nadab and Abihu steaming,
The terror of giving what is stained,
The dread of Thy wrath on receiving.
For, Lord, know that we all are blind,
And spiritually also are crippled.
Refusing to see what we find,
Our mind wanders after our ripples.
Our heart ever festers in sin,
And torn, mutilated, castrated,
Our praise coming not from within,
Thus immature in what Thou hated.
In giving we’re prone to be rash,
And never then leaving a remnant.
And counting Thy gifts as our trash,
But wasted, un-thanking what Thou sent.
O me! Justly damned from Thy sight.
There is nothing good I can give Thee.
My gift is but refuse and blight,
Preparing then for Thou to kill me.
But Lord, Thou accepted me yet.
For Christ’s good to me Thou imputed.
My blemish Thou chose to forget,
Denying when devils disputed.
My heart Thou redeemed to be pure,
Accepting me seven times over.
My gift I may give ever sure,
That Thou any blemish will cover.
In thanks let me give all I can,
In wonder at what Thou hast given.
Then offered in my tainted hands,
My heart, counted holy to Heaven.
Sermon Poems 