To Christ On Calvary, I Belong

I wish I've no desire for any other,

possessing no ugly pride nor vain conceit at heart..

I wish that on Earth I needn't stay over,

for Your embrace, my Savior, is sweeter than a tart!

I wish that mine eyes be fixed-- No, not wander..

--to the Author of faith, my Perfecter from the start.

These I plead, oh my King, for to You I belong,

Make all of my worship be Yours and Yours alone.
Not divided, nor tugged.

No rebel, not a smug.

You are mine forever,

I can't wait no further.

While on earth, I wish I can from sin be free,

that my days, my years, may not bring You grief, but glory.

A contrite, pleasing aroma unto Thee,

You won't despise, just as Christ for mine on Calvary.

To the Holy I willingly bow my knee,

His righteousness secured, no room I have for worry.

Although still an exile, locked in time, and transient;

My breath, my sigh, caught the eye of the Omniscient.

Your light through my prism,
Free captives from prison.

Your Word guiding my hand,

Bring gladness to the land.

When the end has come, I will sing and dance,

Before Your presence, with a humble stance,

Laying down all the crowns from earthly fight, 

To hear, "Well done, my child." is my delight.

She sat inside the cold room in the middle of the night, while others are sound asleep. Plugged in her ears, & seeping through her affections is a song of kindred sentiment on an almost unending loop. As if to silence what was an already serene atmosphere. Around her was a consistently intermittent ticking sound, not of the traditional clock, but of every key she patiently presses on her keyboard. Earnestly working on what she thought could be used for her personal improvement as a writer.

A warm light on the corner of the room, and another one hanging near the dark blue blackout curtain in front of her desk, both suggesting a blend of sweet and warm rest for the evening. She dares not glance at the back to resist the allurement of some of the warm lights' most powerful accomplices -- the pillow-filled bed with those snuggly Tiffany blue and floral pink blankets.

Passion drives her firm determination to extend the completion of what she started. Yet in the midst of her resistance, the small unassuming digital clock at the far-end of her computer screen subtly snatched her gaze from the manuscript. Coupled with a feeling of physical exhaustion from a full day of communicating with her 21 hopeful clients, she started to wonder how long her written piece would end.

The blessed song continues to play, still with much effect to her heart. The calm ambience of the place faithfully calls her to sleep, to the restoration of her vigor for the next day. She looks at the piece astonished that she had written more than what she hoped for from the time she first cluelessly started. Thrilled and filled with thankfulness to the source of her strength and the author of all things, she is most-ready to retire from the day.
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I read an article about how to become a better writer. The suggested activity at the end of the article is a challenge for me since the way of writing is not something I got used to. But I felt excited to apply what was learned. So above is my meager attempt to put those principles to use.
I hope that made your imagination work. Any writing tips? :)

I love words.

I love words.
I aspire to be a better writer.
A writer for the Kingdom.

I love words.
I long to be a better lyricist.
A lyricist for King Jesus.

I love words.
I desire to be a better communicator.
A communicator of the living and active Truth.

I love the Word.
I train to be a better soldier.
A soldier equipped with the sword of the Spirit.

I love the Word.
I set my heart to be a better worshipper.
A worshipper at the feet of the Word became flesh.

• • •

Eph.6:17 -  Sword of the Spirit
John 1:1, John 1:14 -  The Word became flesh
Heb.4:12 - Living and active Truth