A Poem Inspired by 2 Timothy 1:7
In realms where shadows cloak the trembling heart,
And fear, that ancient serpent, coils and hisses low,
There stirs a flame no mortal hand can quench or part,
A gift divine from Him who bids the tempests blow.
For God hath not bestowed on us a spirit frail,
Of cowardice that shrinks before the gathering storm,
But one of power mighty, that shall never fail,
To stand unmoved when tempests rage in dreadful form.
O timid soul, arise and cast thy doubts away!
The chains of dread that bind thee in the gloom of night,
Are forged in lies the foe hath whispered day by day,
To dim the light that shines with heaven's holy might.
Recall the promise writ in sacred lines of old,
When Paul to Timothy, his son in faith, did write:
"For God hath not given us the spirit of fear, behold,
But of power, and of love, and of a sound mind's light."
Behold the power! Like eagles soaring high above
The crags where lesser birds in terror hide their wings,
It lifts the weary pilgrim on the wings of love,
To scale the peaks where faith's eternal anthem rings.
No mountain too austere, no valley too profound,
No foe too fierce, no trial too severe to bear;
For in this power the weakest heart is strong and sound,
And giants fall before the meek who trust in prayer.
Yet power alone, unchecked by gentler grace,
Might rage like wildfire through the forest of mankind,
But lo, 'tis tempered with a love that knows its place,
A love that heals the wounded and restores the blind.
This love, pure as the dew upon the morning rose,
Flows from the throne where mercy ever intercedes;
It binds the broken, soothes the heart that overflows
With grief, and plants the seed of hope where sorrow seeds.
Not selfish love that seeks its own in vain delight,
But agape, boundless as the ocean's endless tide,
That lays its life for brethren in the darkest night,
And turns the cheek when enemies with rage deride.
In this sweet union, power and love together blend,
Like rivers merging in a vast and mighty sea,
Where strength serves humbly, and compassion doth defend
The weak, the lost, the outcast, setting captives free.
And crowning these, a sound mind, clear as crystal stream
That flows untroubled through the meadows of the soul;
No whirl of madness, no chaotic, fevered dream,
But wisdom's calm that keeps the spirit ever whole.
It discerns the truth amid the tempter's subtle lies,
It weighs the fleeting world against eternity's call,
It steadies footsteps when the path before it flies
Through mists of doubt, and guides the heart through every thrall.
O blessed triad, gift from God's own gracious hand!
Thou dost transform the fearful into valiant knights,
Who wield the sword of truth across the troubled land,
And bear the shield of faith through unrelenting fights.
No longer slaves to panic's cold and gripping hand,
But warriors bold, with love's own banner unfurled high,
Proclaiming peace to every tribe and every land,
While sound discernment lights the way beneath the sky.
Think on the martyrs who in arenas faced the beast,
Their bodies torn, yet spirits clad in armor bright;
They quailed not at the flame, nor at the lion's feast,
For power surged within, and love made darkness light.
Or ponder saints in secret chambers, bowed in prayer,
When persecution's shadow fell across their door;
A sound mind held them steady, free from wild despair,
As heaven's peace descended on the earthen floor.
In daily strife, where lesser fears assail the breast—
The sting of failure, loss of friends, or health's decline—
This spirit lifts the head, bids weariness to rest,
And whispers, "Fear not, for the Lord thy God is thine."
It kindles courage in the youth who stands alone,
Against the crowd that mocks the narrow way of right;
It warms the elder's heart when evening shadows groan,
And fills the lonely pilgrim with undying light.
Come, weary wanderer, claim this heritage today!
Reject the spirit of timidity's cold embrace,
And let the Triune gift its sovereign rule display
Within thy life, transforming weakness into grace.
For He who called thee is faithful, strong, and true,
And in His hands, thy trembling turns to triumph's song;
The power, love, and sound mind ever dwell in you,
To carry thee through tempests, and to right all wrong.
Thus ends the sacred charge, as ancient as the stars,
Yet fresh as dawn upon the dew-kissed, waking earth:
Embrace the gift, and banish all thy needless bars,
For in this spirit lies the measure of thy worth.
Not in thy strength, but in the One who giveth all,
Shalt thou prevail, and in His glory ever shine;
So rise, O soul, and heed the heavenward call—
The spirit given thee is power, love, and a sound mind.
No comments:
Post a Comment