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At Romans 07
What justice can I count on from my pounds of flesh?
The very thought is hardly worth a laugh.
My body is a seething pit of bitter pride.,
always prepared for vengeance from some fresh
(and mis-perceived slight); or it winks to pornograph
of lust. In such a carcass, I abide;
and cry, as Paul once did, "Who will deliver me?"
But, rightly measured, this catastrophe
can be reduced to temporary irritation
cast in the light of Gospel consolation,
the faithful balm and calm of Christianity
(forgiven, we are called to courtesy),
its joy of lasting fellowship and conversation---
those spiritual pleasures---told in poetry.
Starward
[jlc]
