I’m hungry, Lord.
Starving for your statutes.
Drooling for your decrees.
I can’t wait any longer.
My soul craves your Scripture more than my lungs long for air.
So pile my plate with your Word.
Tie a bib around my neck, put a fork in my hand and step back–this is going to be messy.
I’m going to dig in like a dying man.
I’m not going to stop until I lick the plate clean.
And then I ‘ll ask for seconds.
Nothing fulfills me like your Word, Lord.
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