Lacking Nothing

When conflict great is overcome,
The triumph
  greater
has become;
So count it joy, the trials met,
And suffer through, you'll conquer yet.
These tests are blessings in disguise
With steadfastness the noble prize.

Contemplation of Grace

Grace, that fluid motion, done with ease—
Is it illusion or real?
Or is the illusion the essence of grace,
And therein lies the appeal?

The Conqueror

Lord, grant me peace.
Sure up in me the confidence
That you will effect my release.

Lord, grant me strength
That his attacks I will rebuff
No matter their time or length.

Lord, grant me yourself—
Your Spirit dwelling in my heart
That you would be my wealth,

My confidence, my strong defense
In sickness and in health.