Inside My Mind

Inside my mind a constant prayer runs,
That drowns the violent voices and beating drums
Of self-destruction and Satan’s half-truth lies.
The prayer’s a plea — my desperate plea —
To not look right or left or down or behind,
But straight ahead in Jesus’ shining path.
The prayer’s a fervent plea for his return,
For the end of trials and time and pain and death,
For the new creation promised by the Lord.
The prayer’s a cry that God will save us all:
Both friend and foe, my house and every house,
The ignorant man in Amazonia’s hut.
The prayer’s a hope — and not the vaguest wish —
To be secure in what the Cross has wrought,
That mine is not the hand in Jesus’ dish.