Evensong

At the draw,
Of a coarse grained,
And spotted day;
As I fall heavily,
Before the table
Of the Lord;
Sighing keenly,
For the lost flower
Of blamelessness;
And quivering,
At an impure lip.
'Oh Lord', I moaned;
'At times, Thy purity
Flees from me;
Like a fleeting vision
Of the night;
Whispering sharply,
From the periphery.
Create in me,
A new heart;
Renew Thy spirit
Within me;
And restore unto me,
The joy of my
Salvation.'
Suddenly, do I feel
His healing touch;
And my soul is suffused
With Holy emotion;
The tides rise high;
Tumultuous torrents of joy
Knock loudly,
At the floodgates
Of my heart;
And burst forth
Upon my tongue,
As songs of
Glorification:
Seemingly joined,
By every element
Of His creation,
In a choral medley
Of rapturous praise!
Who is like
Unto Thee, Oh Lord?
Or to Thy faithfulness
Round about Thee?