Make Thy Spirit My Core

I feel death’s drawing string
Tighten round my depthed heart.
Praying: “I thank Thee, Lord,
He is not as Thou art.”

Death is fallible in
‘Least one way certainly.
I know that his cord is
Fought by all or many.

With thy strong arm beneath
I will fight him once more.
Without thee I am lost:
“Make thy Spirit my core.”

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