Monday, February 11, 2008

Like a sterile tree I stand,
All branches dried, all wood stray.
Sterile! no fruit, only sand
To my Lord I humbly pray!
O Lord it is as you planned,
'Tis Your command, 'tis Your way.
Look upon me, lay Your hand,
Water my soil, hail my May.
All is bland, Lord, You are grand,
Love me, dear God, me today.


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