Why should surrender be as difficult
as lifting mountains, squeezing tears from stone?
Your will is ocean, mine a grain of salt,
a speck of dust beneath Creation’s throne,
a tissue-paper shield against a sword,
a cobweb chain to tie a running horse,
a whisper in the storm of God’s own Word.
Yet I delude myself that I can force
events to fall out any way I choose,
pin all my hopes on plans that I have made
and curse the universe each time I lose!
I grab the sharpened edge and blame the blade
for cutting me. But oh, the world is tender
when I forget myself and learn surrender.