7/29/18 Through 8/4/18
A little in the hands of God
Will go a long long way.
Give all and then His works applaud,
When they are on display.
He wants but all we have to give
No matter just how small.
If we, on Him, depend to live
We have to give our all.
But then we see how every time
We give it all away,
It acts for Him as just a prime
To fill the jars of clay.
Within the tiny mustard seed
Is found the shelter that we need
If it be given room to grow
The Lord of Lords we'll come to know
In parables we come to see
Things hidden throughout history
And find a tiny glimpse above
Into the land of endless love.
In the fields are weeds and wheat
But only one gives food to eat
Each with a purpose there to spread
The one alive, the other dead.
One grabbing life to selfish ends,
One whose life, on God, depends,
One that follows ill pursuits,
One that bears abundant fruits.
Be not like weed, but follow wheat,
Give of yourself that all may eat.
Be not a barren worthless weed,
But be the loving fruitful seed.
One thing is worth all that I own,
One name above all names is known.
The one whose breath gives life to me.
The One whose love has set me free.
Behold the Potter at the wheel
And wonder how the clay must feel.
Beaten, pounded, pulled, and drawn
Till every lump of stiffness gone.
A painful process for the clay,
But oh, how wonderful that day,
When shaped by hands that love the clay
We learn to love the Savior's way!
A prophesy, God's word for now
That penetrates the heart somehow
And reaches to the depths within
Revealing just how much we sin.
How can He use such worthless tools
To reach the hearts and minds of fools?
Yet somehow with success He does,
Just see that every prophet was,
An ordinary man like me,
That God withdrew the shroud to see.
Who loved enough to sacrifice,
And speak against our world of vice.
The wicked seek to kill the good
Who follow God the way they should.
Enraged by righteousness proclaimed,
That shows their acts, perverted, shamed.
But still pursue His path for you
In all you say and all you do.
For not by power or by might
But by the Spirit win the fight.
And win the hardened stony hearts
For Him alone whose love imparts
A mercy and a welcome home
For all, to Him, returning home.