He quenches not the smoking flax
In gentleness, He fans to flame;
The bruised reed, He will not break
In tenderness, strengthens the frame;
There’s none like Him, no Love so kind
No mercy more can we ever find.
If recount we would, His every thought
If recite we tried, every mercy act
If tally we could, daily measures of grace
It’s beyond compare, who can get past?
arjohn
©treasuresinjarsofclay.com
A bruised reed He will not break,
And smoking flax He will not quench
Isaiah 42:3