“If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but do not have love,
I have become a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.” (NISB)
The written word that comes from within
Speaks ever so softly to souls of the men
Who read and consider, then receive what is said
Into their own lives and, like sheep, they are led.
The warning is sounded as pen becomes tongue
That words not become noise like cymbals when rung
Clanging empty speeches and selfish desires
To those who seek truth that calms and inspires.
A spirit that is cold will reap much the same
From seeds that are planted with hopes of acclaim
Rootless, idle promises sent soaring like dreams
That will surely and quickly fall apart at the seams.
The continuing thread of each word that I write
Must be woven with His love for faith to become sight
And seek only to share what His Word reveals
As, through His Spirit, He speaks and He heals.
May I never forget that this mission of mine
Is a gift of the Father and I must align
My will with His as I write and as I live
May His love be the only hope that I give.
Nancy K. Sullivan