This is a poem I wrote years ago and found again recently. Enjoy!
Ah! I yearn to change the world!
The King of Heaven bids me conquer.
In this, I ought my utmost hurl,
And all my time I ought to proffer!
Yet fill I my soul and waste my hours,
My weak-souled living oft lends my powers,
Oh, weak of mind, and boar of heart!
Could you but give past one day’s thought,
To strive Christ’s fallen world to right,
And devote your service as you ought;
What wondrous feats, what wars you’d win
Could you but see past self and sin!
The white-hot love of Christ should flame you,
Why don’t you yearn His realm to make?
So oft, despising meat to fill you,
You sit content, grow fat on cake;
While real life you pass by,
And seldom stirred your soul to cry,
Awake, my soul! Cast off this sleep!
You have no time for the pride of fools!
And though your troubles may run deep,
All thoughts of self you must out rule.
Too deadly vital, too filled with joy,
Too high this quest, this call, to toy
Oh Christ, my God! Spare my soul,
From filthy ease to be entrapped:
From worst of shames, to die unsung!
Christ, find me not in comfort wrapped.
In me, Thy image: prophet, priest, lord, arise
Lest e’er my birthright I despise,