THE MATCH IS CONSUMED

THE MATCH IS CONSUMED

To start a fire, the match is consumed.

In the box they are but sluggards in bed.

Only the dud survives, yet with a burnt head.

Surely, Jesus was consumed, when he bled?!

“… the disciple is not above the master…” is what He said!

“Hey, mister!  Can you give me a light?’

Ignore him; walk on; this is not my fight.

If he would only half-try, then maybe I just might?

But compassion whispers, within, “… oh, his plight!”

Faith, hope, and love; to the blind give sight!

Open my eyes, O Lord, that I may see,

What and where it is You’d have me be!

Open the door, and in my heart place the key.

From my fears and doubt, Lord, set me free.

Let me give my all in sacrifice to thee!

So, I will be the match; but, who’ll be the tinder?

Unto God, the first and finest, who will render?

For lack of wood the fire they will hinder.

Surrender!  Let no one say, “you are the offender!”

Ashes and coals, each will rise as a glowing ember!