Not Yet

Not yet, the time is not the time for me.
From conversations under moon we made,
Circulating the green grass then knew we
Not prepared I am you be loved and led.

Thank God the promise that seems so senseless and cruel
That I be not in love prior degree.
Revealed His purpose, grace, and faithfulness well,
That to Him my heart, my body, my will be.

Thank God for you: it's good to have you around.
Desire be you in me that I still have;
Mind to fulfill what you desire has made,
Though destined not you, regret not I'll give.

God's Will be done; to Him be love from us.
Be you, I pray, beauty, wisdom, and grace.

My first attempt of a sonnet that characterizes iambic pentameter. The English usage is quite modern as I am not yet too much into the Shakspearean English, but I guess it's just a start. Of course, glory and praise be to God, my inspirer. Comments and critiques are mostly welcome.