A poem I wrote: A grace that is free, Most pleasantly sweet to me, Give me this, my heart’s desire, I to Thee inquire. What better to seek, Than that which makes the heart meek. It uplifts my very soul, To heaven, my goal. Not of my working. No hint of free will lurking. But through grace have I obtained, Life always sustained. Not a hair falls off my head That Thou dost not intend. But Thou have I forsaken more than tens of thousand times. So sweet and sound is this Thy crown To raise me to my feet. But this my crown upon Thy brow Didst nail Thee to the tree. What can I do but sound rejoiced at such a grand display? No gold no silver no fame - not a sliver can ever stand beside. What can I say “oh Lord my gain!” - is this close enough, To praise and sing for all to see that Thou art all enough? Here I am, Lord, see. Use me all toward Thy glory. Grant to me a life toward Thee - More than a story. I will give praises to Thee, Lord of grace so free. Thy love on my soul anew, Condensates like a sweet dew.