There was a man with untold wealth
And another who did not possess health

The former had all he could desire
The latter had only his justifier

They had the same days, months, years
One life had Joy, the other tears

At the end it did not matter whose life was crueler
For they spent eternity with their ruler

I know that I am called to make peace,
But I want the blows to cease.

My cheeks are beaten and bruised,
My peacemaking has been abused.

In my turning I see a framework,
This clay is becoming His handiwork.

My response is proof of my reform,
In Christ’s image I will conform.