I carry in my pockets
The rocks that came my way
Never letting loose of any
My burden heavier each day
I count them two or three times
Between the sun’s new rising
The grudges and the hurtfulness
Daily I’m apprizing

In truth some leave my pockets
But only to be thrown
At others I deem worthy
Of hitting with a stone
My munition may be added
To the pockets of my foe
And yet the weight’s not lifted
Truth be known it seems to grow

Collecting life’s projectiles
Is a hopeless past time, true
And yet I keep acquiring
What others at me threw
How long will I endeavor
To gather heavy rocks?
How long will I be weighed down
And hindered in my walk?

No more, Lord, I do hope
As I’ve decided to relent
Please take the hurt I’ve hidden
While of my anger I repent
Rocks are best for stacking
Like Abram on his way
Making altars to you, Holy God
Setting down the rocks to stay

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