I can’t

I can’t fight Satan in my strength

he knows my depth and breadth and length,

and sin is still a part of me

I’m dead, without faith’s weaponry.


I can’t resist the world alone

though worldliness I can disown,

until the day my body dies

the rebel’s voice within me cries.


I can’t depend upon my heart

for feelings congregate then part,

my mind beholds eternity

then thoughts do tend to vanity.


I can’t endure a single day

if Christ for me did never pray,

sad Peter counted on the Rock

bad Judas counted up, took stock.


One thought on “I can’t

  1. Your poem so captured my mind that I couldn’t help but reply with an imitation of sorts. I hope you like it.

    Who can remove the Saviour’s crown?
    Who could challenge for His high throne?
    None would succeed; why do they try
    To replace the Christ who was born to die?

    He did suffer, He died the death,
    At Calvary they took His breath,
    But being God He could complete
    That holy, predestinated feat.

    The cry went out! The debt was paid!
    Repentant people’s sin was laid.
    On these same ones did fall a call
    Running through time: “Come home you all.”

    I can’t be lost from His safe grasp,
    For when I come to die – at last –
    Then shall He raise me up to Him
    And with His praise my soul shall ring.


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