Cleaning Emergency

There is in me the kind of mess
That makes me want to scream and press
The sprit-numbers 9-1-1
And call, “Oh, Lord, please quickly come
And clean up this abomination!”
But He, in His divine frustration,
Would simply, slowly shake his head
And say, “You need, here, to be dead.
I told you, just take up your cross,
And count this, and all things, but loss
Compared to what I have for you.
Behold, I shall make all things new.”
To which, repenting, feeling numb,
I say, “E’en so, Lord, quickly come.”