Friday, 22 February 2008


When I was battered on a rugged shore

Grace took the oars, braved waves, and rescued me;

Grace had prepared both light and warmth before

My chartless ventures on the sullen sea.

I drew my burnt hand from the savage flame

Since grace had given me my sense of pain;

Grace salved my wounded hand, grace took the blame,

Grace held me back lest I should burn again.

Grace was the policeman who arrested me,

The coastguard who observed my zigzag course,

The fireman who has rushed to cut me free,

The surgeon who exposed my gangrene’s source.

And grace has served me that I might be shown

The throne of grace, with grace upon the throne.

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