That hour when I fall on my face,
And pour out my heart in prayer;
I perceive in that lonely place,
God's pouring presence and power.
There's no moment like the minute
When on the Spirit's wings I fly;
And from my somberness exit,
Hallowing the Father on high.
Son and Spirit have my worship;
Blood and body tremble at praise.
At the peak of longing, I weep;
Enveloped by compassion's haze
Oh! What favor it is to me,
Fresh grace and mercy to obtain!
Calling on the throne so boldly,
Telling the Master of my pain!
Then I feel His hands on me, ease
Burn my burden which comes lighter,
My heart's plight is exchange for peace--
Betok'ning an answered prayer...
Psalm 5: 3 My voice You shall hear in the morning, O Lord; in the morning I will direct it to You, and I will look up.
This poem was a finalist in the November 2013 poetry contest