Through a glass darkly,
I long to see your
face.
With the finger of
my faith,
I can only trace,
A shadow of reality,
A sliver of your
grace.
Trapped in my
humanity,
Imprisoned by my
flesh,
The longing to
break free,
Swells within my
breast.
I groan with all
creation,
To stand among the
blessed.
The final
consummation
That banishes the
sin,
That so easily
besets me
And tortures me
within.
I long for your appearing.
When, my Savior,
when?
