Sunday, August 28, 2005

if i take off my shoes
to serve the needy,
i fear i will be
scarred by their pain;

if i slip off my sandals
to search for the lost,
i worry that i will
never get all the mud off;

if i remove my trainers
to get near your burning bush,
i know that i will leave
bearing a cross;

but you stand there
waiting to wash my feet,
to bind up my wounds,
and to nail your feet
to my sin.

i will run
through the grace-dewed
grass of your kingdom,
you are
who you say
you are!

(c) 2005 Thom M. Shuman

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