She touched the helm of his garment

a poem by Reginold Ajay Jacob, India

She touched the helm of his garment,
She had faith she was made whole,
I touch thee through my unceasing prayers,
I bank on thee for thy mercy is sure.

The Centurion exclaimed I am a sinner,
You need not enter my roof,
Just command Oh my lord, and
All the sickness shall be out.

The fate of the Centurion was stronger than I,
Phoenician women had persistent so strong,
Oh Lord, I have none of those qualities,
Yet on my lord, I wait.

Banking neither on my persistence,
Nor on the strength of my faith,
I seek thy blessings for thou art great,
None who waits on thee is ever ashamed.

Do not look at my grumbling,
Nor my wavering faith,
I invite you to look at my crushed heart,
There is plenty of failures for you to start.

Note this poem was held on 18th of December 1999.

Not so dirty that His blood can't Cleanse
God's love and spiritual poems
They called me a thorn
My hands are tied
All my poems
Let I die

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