Every Morning

In one day, one long moment...Job lost everything. But yet, "he tore his robe and shaved his head and fell on the ground and worshipped." (Job 1:20)

And there are days when I wake up, barely even utter a song, or skim over a verse before I am out the door...

This brought me to write a poem in the light of these two verses..."and he would rise early in the morning and offer burnt offerings...continually". (Job 1:5)



Every morning we should be on our knees

Prostrate before the True King;

Indeed the flesh is weak,

But don’t we know we are free?

Free to sing,

Not merely just driving down the street.

Have we become accustomed to looking at projectors and screens?

Replacing Him for these?

Do our souls just want to be

Another replay on a hit-single CD?

Every morning we should be on our knees

Heads bowed before the True King.