By Jonathan Srock
My flesh cries out against You in weakness.
The spirit inside me lives in dismay.
In destitution, I cry all the day.
So I lie in wait and noiseless meekness.
I am struggling and really must confess
The rage with which my flesh contends; give way!
Against all odds, I hold my flesh at bay,
But barely enduring, barely I bless.
Fling wide Oh glorious gates of my mouth;
All of His praises proclaim and up lift,
The war inside swallowed in victory.
Praise Him, Oh earth, from the north to the south!
For so long, nature, you’ve groaned with your gift;
Now declare your praise to Him eternally