Weapons
of Self-Destruction
I
stand before the mirror’s glass,
Admiring
my guns.
And
in a show of vanity
I
flex them one by one.
Such
well-shaped muscles do I see,
The
fuel for all this pride.
I
often wonder why on earth
These
ever should I hide.
How
well-defined and bulging out!
(I
may exaggerate.)
And
so my pride will swell within
In
such a sinful state.
But
God has made me who I am—
And
that is naught at all,
Compared
to His own strength and might
That
makes great nations fall.
And
this perspective I should have—
Or
be a prideful fool.
So
humble make me, Lord my God,
Though
I resist your rule.
Forgive
my selfish sinful ways
And
make me more like thee—
To
boast in thee, and only thee,
That righteous I might be.
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