You are the first arrow of my quiver,
But I am afraid to pull back the bow.
It feels calmer in the woods upriver,
For my target lies beyond a vile foe.
Past a world that promises all you need,
Where human arrows always veer too low.
I wish I could send you past with such speed
That you’d surpass vanity and greed, yet
It’s not by my strength that you will succeed.
Christ was the one who poured his blood and sweat.
Keeping the law and yet, a lamb before
Shearers, gave himself as price for our debt.
So, I pull the bow as a man of war,
Trusting the King with my precious arrow.
Shine brightly as you go. He’ll make you soar.
Beautiful