My Reach

O God, it is not You Who comes to me,
it is instead myself must go to You,
for You are always close as You can be,
while I must always seek You out anew.

And as You wait, Your arms are full of gifts,
while empty mine have mostly sins and pleas;
and in reply, my soul Your loving lifts,
as You fill me with wild mysteries.

Our ways unequal, I am just a man,
so unreliable I often stray,
O God, though small, I bring You all I can,
my promise to believe and to obey.

O God, we both have power to cross the breech,
You give me all Your love if I but reach.

                               -- by Pete Voelz        4/06