Cancer Cross

You nail me, God, upon Your cancer cross,
I squirm, but I cannot escape my fate,
the game is up, my score is down--my loss,
make up my errors--I am just too late.

So why me, Lord? It is no good to ask,
I’m normal, and death comes to everyone,
God simply tells me to rise to the task,
the world moves on, it’s just my time here’s done.

The God Who made me calls me to account,
my every good and bad thought, word and deed,
He gives me time to make up the amount,
He will not break a bent and lowly reed.

Lord, I accept, to You my arms stretch out,
for only You know what it’s all about.

                      by Pete Voelz       2/28/15