This poem was written by a Greater Grace pastor, Bill Cannon, a missionary to Haiti who died recently.
Counsel me, sweet Word of God.
My heart is cold and numb.
I want to hear Your mighty voice
In mercy bid me “come.”
.
Gird me with strength, O Captain mine,
Send gloominess of heart
Back to the pit from whence it came.
Repel the fiery dart.
.
Pick up the pieces of my life,
All scattered in the street.
Build solid works, O Carpenter,
From splinters in my feet.
.
I call on you from depths below.
Be pleased to lift me up.
My bread has turned to ashes.
Be pleased to let me sup.
.
Your purpose for my life, it seems,
Is long and meaningless.
Unless my way is hid from you,
Please come to me and bless.
.
O fill me with Your goodness,
With the bounty of Your store.
The treasures of Your house, I know,
Lie just beyond the door.
.
I mark the handle and the hinge,
The knocker gives a jolt.
I think I taste the love within,
But why the lock and bolt?
.
I chart as on a map the face
With whose glory the whole house glistens,
Who alone has the power to open the door,
But who in silence listens.
.
Open to me, please open now,
My sore hands do implore.
Still I know He hears me.
Still undisturbed the door.
.
Though the warmth and light are shut inside
And I in the darkness and damp,
Within me burns unquenchable
The shining light of a lamp.
.
I cannot report as I write these lines
Any stirring of the lock,
Only there grows a certainty,
“He opens to those who knock.”
.
by Pastor Bill Cannon
photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/anguskirk/2871096076/”>Anguskirk</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/”>cc</a>
Fearless 
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