Obscured Vision

For me the view’s not always clear,

I’m easily confused.

Then I catch a glimpse of your grace

And I am more bemused,

For I am flawed beyond repair,

A bird with broken wings,

I am a ship that has no sail,

A song that no one sings,

And yet you call me precious child,

You shed your blood for me,

But why you’d do that for me, Lord,

Is more than I can see.

If I were worthy of such grace,

Then I could understand,

But I can’t see why you hold me

In the palm of your hand.

I see a measure of your grace

In flashes of insight,

But those small glimpses only touch

The edges of your might;

The rest will have to wait until

I have more perfect sight.

Psalm 72:14
He will rescue them from oppression and violence, for precious is their blood in his sight.