It seems your sword is aimed at me that sweetly serves diversity,
As I admit strong verse it be, required my contemplation.
While sitting at my master’s feet, His Word he tells me to repeat,
As it’s my milk as well as meat, your sword a consternation.
His Word’s a sword in it’s own right, it redirects my fear aright,
It can’t be sliced and diced or tried, it can not be diversified.