In Your Hands

In your hands I commit my spirit,
In you arms I surrender my soul,
What once was mine was always yours,
To pour out is to be full.

In your hands I commit my spirit,
Let my heart wait not in vain,
I devote to you all of my being,
For this loss can only be gain.

In your hands I commit my spirit,
Let your beauty to me be known,
Keep me humble, I so undeserving,
In my dishonor your glory is shown.

In your hands I commit my spirit,
Let me follow you all the day long,
Lord be thou mine only fortress,
For in my weakness I am made strong.

In your hands I commit my spirit,
Let my soul be gentle and stilled,
For you always may I be longing,
For such desire is always fulfilled.

In you hands I commit my spirit,
In your arms I surrender my soul,
Take me, break me, mold me, make me,
To be broken is to be whole.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Suyin

Communist China 1994 “They wanted me to kill you, Pastor.” Suyin grasped the bars and tried to pull herself up so she could see into the next cell. She was very young, still in her teens, but from her treatments her face was aged beyond her years. Her hands and back ached and she slumped to the ground, content to converse from the floor. “They wanted me to shoot you, and they would free me.” “Did they beat you much?” the pastor replied from the other cell. “I could bear it,” she said. “So, they did.” “Don't let it trouble you. Have they done the same with you?” “Yes.” “Did they-” “Child, I am tired, let us both rest.” I listened to the conversation as I stood by the gates to the inner cell space. I was ordered to suppress all discourse from the cells, but I tried not to if possible. The Christians' speech intrigued me at the very least, and struck me at most. Today I expected to hear some sounds of defeat, considering the treatment I had watched them go through. No! No ! Suyin...
Read more

The Lady

Two poets walking by a field, Did spy a lady there, One thought her stripped and barren, The other thought her fair. “Do see her face,” the first proclaimed, “It's cold and hardened – pale, “What might have held two lovely eyes, “Is shrouded by her veil.” “Her body's dry, her skin is peeled, “So frail, yet thick – so dead. “To think! To think! What soon will come, “O'erflows my heart with dread.” The second poet softly mused, His gaze out o'er the sky, Then turned he to his saddened friend, To give him this reply: “Are not the roots that quiet'ly grow, “Her hidden, inner beauty? “I see wherewithal bloss'ming here, “Is not it blatant to thee?” “She waits for that which soon will come, “How eagerly she sings, “But thou, O friend, the winter sees, “While I dost see the spring.”
Read more

Mary's Other Song

Recent manuscripts have discovered that Mary the mother of Jesus wrote another song that did not make it into the Bible because it was widely believed to lack divine inspiration. Yet, in all its full motherly glory, it is presented here, for your entertainment and enjoyment, in honor of the beginning of the Christmas season. When Jesus was born, I thought, “Hooray! “This must be my lucky day! “And nothing can rain on my parade, “Cuz I tell you, I got it made, “I'm raisin' the Son of God.” But He already knows his ABCs, His “Three Little Bears” and His 123s, Sometimes I wonder if He's teaching me, And life's a little tough you see, When you're raisin' the Son of God. But I never need to spank Him or shout, Cuz He never whines or fusses or pouts, He keeps the straight and narrow route, Yet it makes me wonder what motherin's about, Since I'm raisin' the Son of God. Sometimes I just yell at the others, “Why can't you be more like your brother?” And t...
Read more