You baptize me into your death
and pour your waters down,
but I must choose with every breath
to die as you had done:
the waters falling down again
upon this heart of stone.
And every drop that you let fall
is forming me, O Lord.
Your Spirit plays upon them all,
your mercies new each morn.
Each “yes” I answer to your call,
I am again newborn.
Then wear away my hardened heart:
Dull every sharpened edge;
break down the walls I built to guard
my weak and wounded flesh.
Each time I choose the better part,
give me a heart of flesh.
Kate Bluett 