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December 19th, 2011 | Filed Under: Author, Mitch Kuhn, Poetry0 Comments | Author:

by Mitch Kuhn

A poem on grumbling, murmuring and complaining against God.

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Grumble, grumble is my song
This is why my spirit’s wrong

All the time I do whine
Resisting the will of God divine

Oh Lord when will I learn
Not until death I do earn

Oh Lord why are you picking on me?
I am perfect can’t you see?

If only you would realize
That I already do have eyes

Why the need for so much pain?
I’m really tired of all this rain

Everywhere I look around
There is disappearing ground

All the earth the rain does cover
As my old man it does smother

Murmuring again with a frown
My lips are stopped as I drown

Washed away by a flood
From my body comes the blood

From the Word is my death
Flames from his fiery breath

The Lord says, “Who are you?”
Do not think with you I’m through

You are clay in the potter’s hand
I will melt you down like sand

Until as glass clear you’ll be
That through you me they’ll see

I know that this is not fun
But you must say “Thy will be done”

Through you I will reveal my glory
Patiently wait as I tell the story

No matter what you must recall
That I am doing it all

In due time you will be free
Until then you mustn’t  grumble against me

Praise, praise is my song
About you Lord I was wrong

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