Love in Its Truest Form

Love is not the spark alone,
Not roses laid at twilight’s door,
Not whispered words that fade by noon,
Or hearts sketched lightly on a shore.

Love is not the pulse of thrill
That races bright, then settles low.
It is the quiet, steadfast will
To stay when lesser feelings go.

It is the lamp in storm-tossed air,
The hand that does not loose its hold,
The listening heart, the kneeling prayer,
The warmth that outlasts growing cold.

Love bends low and washes feet.
Love speaks truth when truth may sting.
Love forgives before retreat.
Love is strength that chooses spring.

It does not boast nor keep a score.
It does not wound to prove its right.
It opens wide a guarded door
And lets another stand in light.

Love is not a single day.
It is the daily, chosen art
Of laying lesser things away
And keeping mercy in the heart.

And in its truest, deepest flame
It looks like Christ upon a tree—
Not taking what He could have claimed,
But giving all to set us free.

If this poem stirred something in your heart, remember that the deepest roots grow from God’s Word itself. “Thy word have I hid in mine heart, that I might not sin against thee” (Psalm 119:11). If you’d like simple, practical help in tucking Scripture into memory…

👉 Sign up for the free FAST Crash Course in Bible Memorization: http://fast.st/cc/21419