Smoking flax, weak little things,
needing reminders, of what faith brings
bruised and hurting, smoking flax
fragile souls, trust in God is what they lack.
Smoking flax, where is your spark,
have you hidden it, deep within your heart?
Backslidden ones, blown all about,
by the winds of self-proclaiming doubt.
Smoking flax, fearful ones of the flock,
stumble upon, each stumbling block
chomping on temptation’s cunning lure
going off with Satan, on His earthly tour.
Smoking flax, beaten and broken down,
you can’t see His goodness all around
pride and ego, gets in your constant way
to make room for God, in your busy day.
Smoking flax, you have no strength,
to go the distance, to go the length
but try you will, always on your own
the longer it takes, the more you roam.
Smoking flax, weak, noxious things,
return to Christ, see what renewed faith brings
smoking flax, He’ll not quench or put you out
but, He will rid you of your crippling doubt!
King James Version
“A bruised reed shall he not break,
and smoking flax shall he not quench,
till he send forth judgment unto victory.”
Deborah Ann Belka