Sonnet

Standing once more, my Lord and my Keeper,

Upon and through the face of Death He stares.

Plucked from the callous hand of the reaper,

His breath on my face was too rank to bear.

 

This trophy of triumph he would not claim;

A heartless determination now grew.

A chilling regret scales my every vein;

A lifetime faced with temptations anew,

 

But I shift my eyes to the to the One who saves;

To a brighter Light and a sweeter Song.

Grace has pulled me from my eternal grave;

I've been forgiven for all I've done wrong.

 

Before the days of the world had begun,

The battle for my heart was long since won.