The Thing that Prophets Prize

Make me helpless in my weakness

But leave me not alone

Devastate me in my secret place

Let me know as I am known

Show to me the wickedness

In my heart it would reside

Cleanse me Lord and purify me

With your crimson tide

Your blood alone can wash away

The sin to which I hold

Strip away my selfish pride

And make me truly bold

To lay aside the worldly way

Where I would compromise

I want to be a man of God

The thing that prophets prize.

To grow into your fullness

Is all that is enough

To live up to my priviledge

To speak the truth in Love.

To lay down in repentance

To be raised within your grace

The thing that prophets prize most

Is to gaze upon your face….

Anthony Foster

June 17, 2002