Delight

Delight

when I am broken, overwraught with shame

a tearful child, alone in angry pain,

you lift me up, and gently speak my name,

and gaze at me, and smile and say

that I’m your funny valentine,

that I am your delight,

that you need me and that I have been loved,

that you have been,

and always will be my friend;

that you made me, 

and love me,

and will me to exist,

that at my soul’s centre you, Lord,

choose to dwell,

that you brought me into your banqueting house,

and your banner over me is ‘Love’,

and when I sleep you watch me breathe,

and stand and gaze and love me,

and that you sorrow over my hurts,

and when I stray

you long to bring me home,

and bid me welcome, 

and shoo away my doubts,

until I sit and eat

and rest in you.