A little persecution

Oh, You would bring
to stir up my affections
for You
strange
it seems
You make me
run to You
when I’m disrespected
confounded by the world’s hatred
often offended
and an offense
You call me
to bless them
who hate me
those who are raging
against any slight hint of conviction
They hate You,
my Master, my Savior, my Daddy, my best friend
And
What am I to do?
Call down fire from heaven?
No,
for even the most wretched
filled with unquenchable love for evil,
yes, I
have found refuge from Your just wrath
in
the willing wounds of Your Son
the One You willingly crushed
to bless the ones who cursed You
Forgive them,
for they know not what they do.