I see God's hand
Wresting control from me
Sifting through grains of sand
To find the perfect one
Setting it perfectly in place
He creates a castle from the
Overlapping homogeny of the gold encrusted beaches
He kneels down, occassionally empyting
His sandles of the small specks stuck
Where He doesn't want them.
Then He take me, a static, useless
Particle. He, arranging all things,
Architects a scene of flawless beauty
To which my only response is, "Why?"
Why would God give such good gifts to such poor people?
I am helpless, in this oceanic scene of vast
Majesty, able to only to look with my eyes
And marvel a the mind-blowing, pure
Art; incapably accomplished by anyone
But He who paints with
The Master's Hand
Wresting control from me
Sifting through grains of sand
To find the perfect one
Setting it perfectly in place
He creates a castle from the
Overlapping homogeny of the gold encrusted beaches
He kneels down, occassionally empyting
His sandles of the small specks stuck
Where He doesn't want them.
Then He take me, a static, useless
Particle. He, arranging all things,
Architects a scene of flawless beauty
To which my only response is, "Why?"
Why would God give such good gifts to such poor people?
I am helpless, in this oceanic scene of vast
Majesty, able to only to look with my eyes
And marvel a the mind-blowing, pure
Art; incapably accomplished by anyone
But He who paints with
The Master's Hand
I hope you realize that the fact that your dad loves your writing and that I am built up in Christ with it is a dim reflection of your Father's joy in who you are and what you do.
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