Sunday, 22 June 2014


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.

1 comment:

I'm glad to hear how this strikes you!