A canvas, a brush
empty and untouched
afraid to grace the face
in fear that I may mar
this work unfinished in its purity
leaving a gaping scar
to forever haunt and taunt
the bitterness that would seep into the wound
and cower over existence
until impending doom
A steady hand, a stroke
a careful eye with skill invokes
across the canvas with crimson red
over lines traced with lead
dripping down, etching with heart
across each pure and untouched part
The master makes his grand design
Carefully tracing each little line
casting the clay for his own use
this work of beauty now must choose
Good God I pray
That in your will
I may stay
Show me now
what you will
I need your grace
its absence kills
Only you, Lord
Only my God, my God
Could ever paint with such care
across this canvas, erase despair
Only you could ever trace
And all because Amazing Grace
Has set me free
Has set me free
Rhyme Written In Red 