May I be fed
For faltering
My fears and doubts
Have led
So often seeking
A substance far more toxic
And superficial
It takes more than it gives
Yet thou art far more rich
Thy flesh far more nourishing
For thy wounds become
My grafting sap of life
Far more than I
My soul doth find
I find more wealth
In kind
Thy words thy only hope
I find in this drought
For in the desert
I feed and find
All my soul doth need
Thy words are life
Thy sacrifice my
Salvation
No other way but thine
So cling I to the vine
And drink full
Of thy holy wine
-Joshua Lee Foist
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