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Cheryl Balcom

Psalm 40 (on repeat)

Updated: Jun 18


The feet that once sank

deep, deep down

in that slimy, miry bog;


The hands that gripped Yours

so desperately

as You reached for her in the fog;


The body that You lifted,

so gently, from pitiful depths,


has surrendered again

to her towering sins

and hearkened to clamoring flesh.


Her iniquities consume her

as her way begins to slip,

and she veers onto that dire path—

shrugs off Your steadying grip.




The muck and mire of despair

still oozes between her toes,

and the new song that You gave her

is reduced to dingy prose.


Her enemy gloats over her defeat,

confident that her flesh

will sentence her to the pit once more,

despairing unto death.


Till she cries again—Lord, come near!

in her poverty, in her need;

her courage drains, her joy departs,

but You turn and hear her plea.


No sacrifice or offering

that she alone can give

can save her from this sinful bent—

it’s Your grace she needs, to live.


The faithful hand that reaches down

to rescue once again

lovingly lifts and rinses clean

the residue of sin.

Once for all—yes, only once—

Your sacrifice made complete;

yet Your mercies dawn, afresh, anew—

Your forgiveness, on repeat.







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