The Untasted Virtue that is Perfection
Hold me. Sing to me. Change me.
I am not content to sit…
I am not content to “loaf”…
But in your arms.
Judge me. Rebuke me. But love me.
I desire to know the truth
And then to know your grace.
Pick me up when I fall.
Hear my words when I call.
Perfection be yours.
I shall not taste it this side of life.
I may come close but what is most…
You kindly share small glimpses of
–That thing you call perfection—
Into our dreams you breathe its strength
Where only a peek does give us courage
To keep striving towards that loftiness
That is so often call perfection.