Like a moth He consumes 
All that harms and pulls, 
All that tempts us down 
And tender tugs our souls.

Like a moth He is munching 
All that dross, rot, and sin. 
Can you hear tiny crunching? 
A purging munch by Him. 

He crumbles and cracks, 
All the wood, hay, stubble.
Devouring discipline saps 
Hope in plans made rubble. 

Thank You for consuming
The plans we were forming,
with compromise looming, 
Now new purpose blooming. 

This moth has been precious 
As He munches away.
He has nothing less for us
Than Heaven’s bright day 

Where reward is given, 
And failures forgotten, 
And crowns tossed for living, 
He, the treasure we got and -

I’m glad for the crunching. 
The moth that is munching. 

For in the pain of the consuming, 
I’ve found His goodness soothing 
And tender forgiveness proving, 

He’s simply worth
It all. 

“When You discipline us for our sins,
You consume like a moth what is precious to us” (Ps 39:11).