Wednesday, April 17, 2013

The Overworked Sonnet

When all goes well and does not greatly strain
My efforts, skill, or allocated time,
Then I with my abilities remain
Content, nor driven greater heights to climb.
But as my obligations multiply,
My talent rapidly becomes undone,
I see how far beyond the grasp of my
Own competence my aspirations run.
’Tis then in no small panic I retreat,
To find within the source where power flows,
For Man cannot accomplish any feat,
But that his God through him has made it so.
Lord, therefore, as I labor, grant to me
That I not rest, if resting forget Thee.

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