My friend Dorian who is a professor at Dallas Theological Seminary sent me these sonnets last year. I’m pondering them, in light of editing my life.
When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one Talent which is death to hide,
Lodg’d with me useless, though my Soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, let he returning chide;
“Doth God exact day-labor, light denied,”