Upon this groundless throne we sit,
In pride, a fleeting guise.
For reasons countless, yet unfit,
To see through humbled eyes.

Creation whispers soft and clear,
"You are but transient forms."
Frail as a breath, and just as near,
To vanishing in storms.

Ignorance binds us, tightly spun,
In webs of boundless reach.
We stumble, seeking truth begun,
With lessons life will teach.

And as we age, our memories fade,
Like glasses lost and sought.
Our knowledge dimmed, by shadows made,
In twilight battles fought.

Our sins do weigh us to the earth,
Their presence, heavy chains.
Were hearts laid bare, we'd see the dearth,
Of virtues that remain.

Yet blessings flow, like rivers wide,
And humble us, they must.
For in His debt, we must abide,
In awe, and grateful trust.

Salvation's grace, a gift bestowed,
Not earned, nor can we claim.
Like Mephibosheth, we've owed,
A debt, in lowly name.

So let us pray, for strength to flee,
From pride's beguiling snare.
For only in humility,
Can grace be found most fair.