Finally, that vicious day was over
At last, my labor was through.
Before I could rest my troubled head
Slowly I knelt calling to you.

Lord Jesus, I am...

"Frustrated by my frailty
Discouraged by my pride,
Aware of my constant failure
Desperate to you I cry."

"Everything seems so fruitless
No matter what I do,
I cannot seem to overcome
In my attempt to live for you."

Alone in the quiet darkness
As I began to rise,
Your words broke through to my broken heart,
I lifted my tear stained eyes.

"My child I see your struggle
And I know your deepest pain.
Take a lesson from the artist
And see my love blossom again."

No longer was I in darkness
And loneliness had fled,
I now stood in your brilliance
Transformed by what you said.

Opening like a curtain
These rays gave way to a stage,
On which, bearing easel, brush and canvas
Stood an artist without age.

I watched as His bare canvas
Took color with each stroke of His hand,
Noticing the gloomy shades applied
Not following any sure plan.

This art revealed my state of mind
All scattered, dark and dreary,
No shape or form could I find
Only voids of uncertainty.

The look upon this craftsman’s face
The confidence He bore,
Soothed my rather restless state
And bid me look once more.

From His eyes back to that canvas
My sight was then renewed,
For what was once a meaningless mess
Became my life reviewed.

Brilliance and splendor sprang forth
Radiance and majesty cried,
As if I had just been born
I viewed now through Artists eyes.

Oh the value of that work
Increased with each slight stroke,
Shadows did sunshine birth
And gloom, joy now awoke.

Purpose and hope brushed over me
Questions and fear sped away,
Realizing what my artist did see
Refreshed this matting that day.

Oh, I still have questions
And life can wear me down,
But my life is becoming a masterpiece
Stroked by The Artist with The Crown.