To Worship

If He came down to me
I would happily call him
Lord,
my God,
because of love,
not because of any
made up idea of
religious fervor.
How can I not call Lord
the One who made it
worth it
to suffer as I do?
The one who made it
so I’m meant
for something great?
That I can be free
of suffering?
How can I not
worship
someone who makes me
so safe and happy,
and who tells me truth
liberally,
and upbraideth not?

Where else would I go
for this?

Mock me.
Mock my bowed head
and bended knee,
or the tears I shed
to wash another Man’s
feet.

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