12 August 2012

A Sunday Sonnet

BENEFICENCE

Thou art too loving and too gen'rous, Lord,
Forgiving such an errant one as I!
My soul's recalcitrance doth not accord
With grace benign, nor boundless clemency.
Unfaithful she hath been, self-willed and proud,
Sustained by praise and honour transient,
Imprisoned by her restlessness and vowed
Unto herself; but Thou, beneficent,
Didst care for naught but she remaineth Thine;
For what be Thine may yet possesseth not
Such merit worthy of Thy grace divine.
No matter to Thy Heart, which counteth not
This paltry worth, so infinite Its store:
Much as is giv'n, there ever shall be more.

© 2006 Leticia Austria, revised 2010

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