" T h e P l a c e o f B u r n i n g "
(c) william the lesser
The fire from the Lord
Has burned among us
And the outskirts of our camp
Are consumed in this place of burning
The quail falls like rain
And we gorge ourselves
Then we choke on our desires
And we are buried in graves of craving
We shook our fists in anger
In the very midst of Your provision
We railed against correction
And despised Your discipline
We demanded You allow us to go our own way
So we went there and we suffered
As we willed, You gave us over to our desires
And we were suddenly overwhelmed at our ignorance
Like a nursing child teasing a starving lioness
We had the nerve to act bewildered
When she turned on us and tore us apart
Then we cried out . . . "Where are You?
Oh God! Save us from our enemies!
Save us from ourselves!"
Now, because of our complaining against,
And trifling with the God Who is not mocked
We have suffered the consequences
For who on earth can stand in the raging,
Unquenchable fire of Your judgment?
Melting hearts; consuming flesh
We are so sure we know the way
But it is the path into destruction
We are so sure of what we want
But the end thereof is death
So before it is too late
We turn from our ways
Before it is too late
We fall at Your feet
Before it is too late
We beg Your forgiveness
Before it is too late
We cry out for mercy
