Where did you come from loathsome vice
oft muted, mercifully constrained?
You’re the altar’s flame of burning ice
inner tranquility feigned.
You keep the gate for a powerless king
who scratches for a throne,
Whose worthless decrees he feebly clings
emboldened by his groans
If you attend church, let it spur you to attend to the church.
If you tithe, let it spur you to give your life away.
If you preach, let it spur you to truthful living.
If you bow your head and close your eyes as someone else prays, let it spur you to live humbly and reverently.
If you partake of communion, let it spur you to commune with the Father minute by minute.
If you were baptized, let it spur you to shine your light before men.
If you raise your hands during the music, let it spur you to a life of surrender.
If you serve in organized ministries, let it spur you to spend quality time with the broken and oppressed.
If you receive a blessing on Sundays, let it spur you to be a blessing everyday.
Press down, so tough.
Press hard, more stuff.
Press into Him, rest in His love!
Grace Breaks 