What's the pattern?

A steady slow thump, ribcage heave,
Subtly kindled pain, rising to the surface,
Heart beating love which my soul needs to breathe,
A shadow of my hurt holding no purpose,
Never again to focus in when out with Him is what I need,
Don the humble gear, walk straight into the furnace,
Sharing hope where life is grim, that for which Christ came to bleed,
Ask not what He will do for you, but how can you be of His service.
Casting cares upon the Comforter, though we sway like the reeds
Knit by torn ligaments given willingly though nervous,
Come take away these broken shards, remove this wicked man's deeds
Love to die daily covered in repentance as His forgiveness cures us.
O Holy God, we're unholy jars filled with greed
The holiest of holy acts, He continues to assure us,
Help us as we humble ourselves, set this dead man free.