My God, My Lord

Faith, be not a gift,
     but a hunger
     binding both wrists
     to forego all drift,
          drifts which humble,
     to prepare fortification
     against storms perverse
     and degrading
Grace, do not bestow,
     but force upon me
     your heavy glow
     illuminating unearned favor
     gathering short-comings
     for riches forthcoming
Love, do not only find I,
     but consume me,
     you desired beauty
     so I may delineate thee
My God
     My Lord