A Prayer for the Proud
O Lord of Light, whose mercy streams
Through cracks in thrones and shattered dreams,
We lift a prayer not for the meek,
But for the proud who never seek.
For those who wear a gilded crown,
Yet trample hearts to lift their own,
Who gaze from towers made of stone,
And think themselves to stand alone—
Have mercy, God, upon their pride,
That fortress where their fears abide.
They chase the wind, they grasp at stars,
Unseeing chains in golden bars.
They speak as if they hold the skies,
Unmoved by tears in others’ eyes.
They name themselves above the clay,
Forget they too shall turn that way.
Forgive them, Lord, for what they’ve lost—
The weightless soul, the heavy cost.
Show them the ground where all men kneel,
And teach their hearts again to feel.
For power fades and flesh will fail,
And time will tear each gilded veil.
But mercy waits where truth is found—
Where kings and beggars share the ground.
Amen.
Thank-you for reading.
Much Love and light,
Brenda Marie
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