“So frail am I,” I oft have thought
When wind or storm descend upon
Or while upon this road whereon
I find myself with worry fraught.
For I do love, though I am not,
To be a martyr; and thereon
My deepest pride is prone to spawn.
And sharply yet does Christ forgive,
Gives grace as he propitiates.
His challenge there I find: For He
Has died that I should walk and live
And in this life to expiate
My death; no martyr shall I be.
(October 8, 2019)
