This Cup

This cup from which I drink
is so bitter or is it merely
the thorn in my side?

Is it flesh with which I
struggle or is it divine
will to which I must be true?

Prick me with Your Truth
and grace and by Thine own
right hand lift me up.

With Your comfort priceless
and precious guide me
through to Your Beulah Land.

Anoint me with Your
power from on High
to remain here below.

Slow my fluttering heart
and silence my racing
thoughts in these early hours.

The voice I carry let it
be heard but only if
they are Your words.

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