At times I am embarrassed,

That I am what I am.

For I am of humanity;

That fault filled breed called man.

For as my brother’s wayward,

I too have filthy hands.

Let separation be too long,

And I need reprimand.

My brothers of flesh, are just a mirror

Of this God provoked hermit.

Staring at the Son too long,

Anoints with traits but counterfeit.

Attributing His righteousness

To all the men I meet.

I’m often disillusioned,

By filthy wayward feet.

Severity of sin not counted,

I am just like they.

By their mouths and actions;

Their refusal to obey.

Then let this shame provoke

my earnest, thoughtful hope;

And let me remember well.

As I was once like they,

Upon this revelation,

Difference is:

Much harder apart to tell.

By His Grace