His mercy is new every morning.
It’s fresh, vibrant, awake.
It’s not been sitting in the back of the fridge for days past expiration.
His mercy is standing up, stretching out
Giving generously, without fault.
It sees and loves and serves
Coming in continual waves.
And just when I think I can’t take another drop
His mercy cascades over that place I’ve never said out loud.
It washes without reservation.
It heals and captures
What I can’t stand against.
His mercy is new and never wasted.
It’s always worth it
Even when I don’t believe it.
Every morning it offers a beginning
And His mercy never ends.
It’s breeze pushes out staleness,
Making me aware of what’s dead.
It resurrects and pumps life back
To what I thought I lost.
His mercy is sweet and slow
Forgiving, redeeming, transforming
Remaking me in His image.
His mercy is new every morning.