Morning Prayer

During holidays, 'tis quite too easy to spend days in useless musings. May the Lord still let my life shine like a candle for Him.

In the morning I arise,

Stretching arms and rubbing eyes,

Wondering what course should lie

On my way today.

In the morning, silently,

As the sunrise creeps on me,

I can’t help but question why

I need face the day.

Not for love and not for fame,

Not for praises to my name,

Not for mem’ries passing by

Must I live today.

Christ alone, my heart’s desire,

Sparked the flame and feeds the fire;

Lord, upon You I rely,

Use me, Lord, today.

Psalm 139

Though I versified this psalm as a class project, it's message still lies close to my heart. God alone knows me thoroughly.

You have searched me; You have known me.
Faraway, my thoughts You see.
When I'm rising, when I'm lying--
You know thoroughly.
Every word upon my tongue You
Search and know as false or true.
Every place I go or turn I
Am beset by You.
'Tis too wonderful for me. I
Cannot think of thoughts so high.
Everywhere I go, You know--in
Land, or sea, or sky.
If I fly to realms beyond or
Dwell beneath the deepest shore
Even there, I find Your hand still
Guides me evermore.

A Sweeter Song

I have thought much about which composition to choose as my new year post. And this song...written long ago in the midst of heartache...finally emerged as the best choice. No matter what my foolishness might tend to do, may the new year bring me closer and closer to my Savior, as I live a lifesong of satisfaction and love to Him.

Verse:
I brought to You my foolish dreams
And threw them up to You,
Requesting that You faithfully
Make all of them come true.
"I'd do my best, You do the rest,"
As long as each of them comes true...

I brought to You a battered heart,
All torn beyond console,
Requesting that You faithfully
Redeem and make it whole.
You tore it more, and then restored
That sweeter song unto my soul...

Chorus:
A sweeter song I sing
Of all that's pure and true,
A song no man can bring
Though everything he do,
A song my life resounds,
A song of love profound,
A song of love I found,
When satisfied in You.

Every Line of Poetry

If ever I did write...it was only by the grace of our Savior. And as I soon return to an academic environment, I am determined to still walk closely with our Lord, to let Him hold my heart and my hands, and by His leading, to continue writing His wonders and truths. Lord Jesus, I love You.

Oh Lord, I know so well in me
That every line of poetry
That I could ever write
Is written by Your precious grace
Upon each titter and each trace,
And by Your strength and might.

And every time that I draw near
And learn to keep You close and dear,
You make my hand to write
So many words of wondrous truth
To aide, to guide, to cheer, to soothe,
And to uphold the right.

And yet whenever I divert
And do what in Your heart would hurt
Or pain You in Your sight,
You answer silence to my plea
And take these words away from me
So that I cease to write.

Oh Lord, please let it never be
That I would wander aimlessly
And turn to my own plight;
But let my pen be Yours to use
To give Your praises all their dues,
And to uphold Your light.

To This Place

This is a song that came to me when I was doing my devotions in our dorm prayer room several months ago. The more I come to know who I really am, the more I am amazed at the wonder of God's love and grace.

Who am I to stand before Your throne?
Who am I to be among Your own?
Who am I to claim a part when You had rolled the stone?
Who am I to come to You alone?

Who am I to have Your hand in mine?
Who am I to know Your love divine?
Who am I to claim a part and at Your table dine?
Who am I to witness Your design?

Amazing love...amazing grace...
Amazing glory in Your face...
Amazing mercy that would cover my disgrace
And bid me enter to this place.

A Self-Revelation

In a world that rants about "following your heart" and "discovering the real you," learning what is truly inside of oneself doesn't seem like a bad idea. Yet the fact is, what is inside is terribly ugly...and every time I read this poem, it pierces me with pain and terror almost like a horror film....and yet, God is still amazing.

I looked to God and said one day,
“I give my life to You,
All things I do, and think, and say,
I dedicate anew.
I know what I could give is few,
And undeserving too,
But all that can be done of me,
I offer now to You.”

And in my heart, I felt so sure
That He must have felt grand
To have a life so young and pure
Entrusted to His hand.
So great then was the shock I knew
When all I reckoned true
Was called unfit, the time when He
Was seeking for His due.

“Lord, isn’t there a little bit,
A little bit for You?
A little bit that could be fit
A bit that’s good and true,
A little bit that I could do
To sacrifice to You?”
His shook His head and look at me,
“Child, that was from me too.”

I cried, I shook, I closed my eyes,
I could not understand,
Were all my off’rings merely lies?
Had I nothing at hand?
“Lord, surely it could not be true
That all I’d say and do
Were merely from me and for me,
And not prepared for You?

“It couldn’t be, it couldn’t be!”
I hid my head in tears.
And it took quite some time till He
Could coax me to come near.
I shuddered at what I now knew
I sobbed o’er what was true
“There’s nothing, Lord, coming from me,
No, not one thing for You.

“The words I’ve said, the deeds I’ve done,
The thoughts of sacrifice
Were done for pleasure or for fun,
And for man’s earthly eyes;
I can give nothing good to You,
And all that I’ve been through
Was just a masquerade of me,
And nothing about You.”

I wept and dared not look above,
I knew I had been wrong,
Then after shelt’ring me with love,
For days and ages long,
He said, “Child, look and tell me who
You now can see in you.”
“Nothing but old selfish me,
A mess, unfit, untrue.”

He looked at me and smiled and said,
“That’s what I want of you,
That you should see how you are dead,
How ugly and untrue,
That you should see how I’ve loved you,
How faithfully and true,
So that You live accordingly.”
“I will, Lord…I love You.”

A Writer's Prayer

I am barely a writer...but this really is my prayer...

If I could ever write a story…that could capture only one fragment of Your sovereign plans, then it would be the greatest masterpiece on earth. No, it cannot be. That is a wish beyond humanity.

You are the one who created it all.

You invented what people call characterization. You have made millions upon millions of human beings over the course of history, yet not two have been the same. You designed every tendency, every inclination, every preference, every talent, every interest known or unknown to man…and You combined them in unique ways that outwit probability. You planted such varieties of personality, and You set each new concoction in different circumstances. You designed character background, more richly, deeply, and diversely than any single human mind can comprehend. You dictated which parents would bear which children, and which building should house which child, and which cultures would reach which soul. You created propensities so tiny yet significant, that only a family member could tell. You search through every motive and form of selfishness harbored in the heart, even those hidden from one’s own eyes. You did not create sin, yet You understand it and see it manifested in ways as diverse as the human creatures You have conceived. You write character after character, create person after person…yet You know each by name, You understand each one as thoroughly as if he had been the only one made.

You write with purposeful plots. There are three main plots in life, and You control them all. There is the main plot of redemptive history, of which You are the focal point. There is the main plot of the humanity’s history within this universe, which often leaves individuals seem incredibly insignificant. Then there is the main plot of everyone’s own story, for truly no story is ever of greater consequence in one’s life than one’s own. No human being can understand the world except through the context of his own story. For him, for her, for me, that is the main plot. You write each one. You personally write each one. You write each one with precision inconceivable.

You are a God of order, and You are a complex God. How You can interweave billions of main plots over time is beyond my understanding. I can only marvel. One man heads one household, one long chapter within his lifetime. His children, growing under his roof, portray stories of their own. Every day, the family meets; every day, the family lives. Every day, they share certain instances common to all. Yet the significance of an event varies among the stories, even as each of them respectively resolves into what is best. The ending of one story is often the beginning of another. The punishment of one character may well be the reward of another. The consequential progressions of each tale merge together as they take their place in the main plots…in a pattern inscrutable.

You are just, and poetic justice is but a shadow of Your standards. Evil shall be punished; good shall be rewarded. Though achieved in means sometimes elusive to human wisdom, justice is served by Your hands. Ultimately, wickedness does not prosper, evil does not prevail. The humble and righteous are lifted up as You Yourself have promised.

You set the tone of each line, page, and chapter within every tale. Yet in them all, You are glorified. The Christian’s moments of triumph magnify Your faithfulness. The penitent tears of the sinner direct to Your abundant mercy. The achievements of man prove Your common grace. The calamities of nature thunder of Your power and might. From a mother’s healing touch to a judge’s severe sentence to a friend’s jovial tease…You work, You manage, You write.

You write the unexpected, yet You write with consistency to Your character. So paradoxical are You. What man calls good might be a curse; what man calls evil might be a blessing. You ask that man give up his life to find it. You ask what is impossible. Yet You make it possible.

You let man plan his way, but he can never know what is beyond the page, the line, the very word he is living. You know all, yet you let us know so little. You render Your characters helpless under Your pen. There can be no peeking ahead.

Yet You promise what is the best, and the one who would not trust You does so at his own demise. You do know best, and the best way to appreciate that best is through believing in You. You write what is best temporarily, as well as what is best eternally. I cannot understand how, but still You do that. You always give the best, and I could choose to see that best even while its happening, or only when it’s over. Or wait, that is wrong. It is never over. Your lovingkindness is never ceasing. That’s how incomprehensible a writer You are…You do not merely write for the best interests of the whole; You write for the best interests of every one who loves, obeys, and belongs to You.

You make all things beautiful in Your time. You are beyond time, yet You write humanity’s story within this dimension. You never begin one storyline when it’s too early, and You never forget a line until it is too late. You combine fleeting moments of bliss and extensive chapters of sorrow to write the perfect tale.

You write in every language ever known. You write in the hearts of the educated and uneducated, of the heathen and the Christian, of the elderly and the young. You give instruction and demand compliance. You give love though we give hate. You write in the tongues of men and of angels, though they are below You. You take the wisdom of all You are and write it in words man’s weak nature could blurrily decipher. You write both in majesty and in meekness. You write both in thunders and in whispers.

You write everything. You do not neglect any detail. You do not add insignificant facts. You write without error.

I could never end in praises and in awe. You are the Master Author, truly, the Beginning and the End.

Lord, take my pen. You do the writing…write with my words…write with my life itself.

I know You are the one writing anyway, whether I say so or not. But just to let You know…I want You to write.

I can’t write. You do the writing. Write beside me, write through me…write with me as Your pen.

He Would Say

It's another one of those compositions that often makes me teary-eyed. It is hard to capture the soul of this song without its dramatic melody and chords. Yet it's always the lyrics that have the message, after all. The more one understands one's failures, the more overwhelming and indescribable God's love is. I can only say so much; He says it all.

Verse 1:
At times I fall,
At times I wander away,
At times I’ve failed
And turned resolutely astray,
And yet when He,
He looked at me
With eyes full of wonderful love,
He’d hold my hand and say, “I love you.”

Chorus:
“I love you,” He’d say, in His own wonderful way,
“I love you,” He’d say every day;
“I love you,” He’d say, though I would wander astray,
These words to me He would say.

Verse 2:
At times the pain
Would be too heavy to bear,
And I would doubt
If He ever really did care,
And yet when He,
He looked at me
With eyes full of wonderful love,
He’d hold my hand and say, “I love you.”

Verse 3:
At times my wrong
Would leave me dark and despaired,
And His own hand
Would hurt me each time He repaired,
And yet when He,
He looked at me,
With eyes full of wonderful love,
He’d hold my hand and say, “I love you.”

Bridge:
And I will never know enough of all He’s done for me,
I only know I’d never love as He,
And I can only say that I can live victoriously,
Because He first loved me.

Thy Will Be Done

Due to a belief that works ought to be polished before they are shared, I very seldom post "fresh" compositions, least of all those merely a few hours old, written in the wee hours of the morning. Yet now, I am in no mood to post anything other than what is the cry of my heart.

Daily I pray that Thy will shall be done,
Daily I pray that You will be the One
Who would control all that's coming to be,
Judging with wisdom regarding to me.

Yet when the matters and changes abound,
I lose the answers I thought I had found;
All the best hopes that were filling my mind
All fall apart, far away, and behind.

Lord, I don't want all these things to be true,
Lord, I don't want to think this is from You,
Yet the reality stands in my face--
This is the portion You've given by grace.

Grant me submission, then, this now I pray,
Grant me the strength to be faithful each day,
Grant me a heart that finds joy even now,
Though my affections do not tell me how.

You are my Answer, and You're in command,
I will not try if I could understand,
For I do not, and I've only one call--
"Thy will be done" in my heart, life, and all.

Wasted, Tired, Torn, and Worn

Ever tried to find God's promises in your own name? The feeling is quite amazing.

Wasted, tired, torn, and worn,
Ever faithless to my King,
Now I come with form forlorn,
Shamed with everything I bring.
Lovingly Your eyes You show,
“Yet will I forsake you, child,
Never will I let you go.”

Lord, As I Come to You

This is a song that I wrote for use in my personal quiet time. I often sing the simple tune to prepare my heart in personal or corporate worship. It is nothing but simplicity in words and in song, but it indicates a dedication to living for God every single day.

Lord, as I come to You,
In this most holy place,
Please silent down my heart
And consecrate my praise.
Remove my earthly cares
And worries for the day,
Please cleanse my every sin,
And dwell in me today.

Dedication

I wrote this short poem when I was around 12 years old. Although it has been several years since, the prayer found in this poem still rings true for me every day of my Christian walk.

All that I am and hope to be,
I consecrate, my Lord, to Thee;
While I may well unworthy be,
Use me, my Lord, to glory Thee.

My life, my soul, and all of me,
I give to Thee eternally;
No matter what the 'morrow be,
My ev'rything will be for Thee.

Quiet Time Reflections

Each time I sit down upon my desk, longing to enter the presence of God, I feel an impulse to write of my personal relationship with Him. Sometimes, those reflections result in simple verses that reflect simple desires for an awesome God.


June 25, 2006
Today's Your day, O Lord, my King,
For You alone my soul does sing;
Your mercy lasts from dawn to dawn
With lovingkindness fresh as spring.
Forgive my sins, and cleanse me now,
Fill up my heart and show me how
To live for You from day to day
That I before Your throne may bow.


July 9, 2006
O Father God, I come into
Your holy house of praise today.
Please consecrate my heart for You,
Forgive my grievous sins, I pray.
You are Almighty, King of kings,
And yet a child You make of me;
To You will my whole spirit sing,
To You must my devotion be.
You loved me first 'fore I loved You,
So help me love with love as true.


August 6, 2006
O Lord, my God, You are the King,
The song my heart and soul do sing;
The wonders of the earth proclaim
The glamour of Your holy name.
O Father God, may my life be
A testimony all can see,
A written page by Your own hand,
A beacon leading safe to land.


August 13, 2006
My Heavenly Father, here I stand,
Before You once again;
Please guide me with Your tender hand
To shine before all men.
Please cleanse my heart and make it true
As worshipping I come;
Please turn my courses back to You,
My audience of One.


September 17, 2006
My Father, God, I come to Thee
Impure, unrighteous, worn, and ill;
Again I've wandered from Thy will
To seek what only pleases me.
Please cleanse me, Lord, this is my pray'r,
I beg Thy mercy to descend;
I ask another chance, True Friend,
To be Thy servant ev'rywhere.