Poets Corner

OINTMENT FOR HIS FEET

Lord, I have no expensive, aromatic oil
With which to anoint Your beloved feet --
No ointment, rare and precious
With fragrance sweet.

But Oh! My God, with all-adoring praise
My one possession I gladly waste,
So that, anointing You in love
Your delight I'll taste.

I pour out myself: my hopes, dreams,
Ambitions, plans and talent -- God-given,
But by me badly used,
By my will driven.

O my God! Please, accept this humble sacrifice,
My stumbling steps and clumsy touch --
That I may rise and serve you always,
Forgiven by Your mercy, and loving much.

Copyright© Cath Filmer-Davies

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