Behold I thought -
That God would be,
A Puppet on a string, for me,
As my hands controlled the string;
I'd make Him dance to every whim,
He'd be my slave, day and night,
If He'd complain - I'd set Him right.
I've lived a life, without a scar,
'Twas better than the best, by far;
I'd counted shekels, one by one,
From dawn of morn, 'til setting sun.
Without a "Thanks," for anything,
I let God dangle on a string.
Through the years, I had my way -
The helm was in God's hands, to stay -
He showed me Jordan's muddy stream;
Where I might dip and be made clean,
And tho I struggled, 'gainst His will,
Six times I dipped - a leper - still.
The requisite is 'Seven times,'
'No more - No less' - I will resign,
To place my life in the Potter's hands;
And be obedient to His commands.
Through murkey waters deep and cold.
I plunged beneath, and came up whole.
And now I know.
-Elizabeth Wallace Morehead-
Copyright owned by the
Wallace and Morehead
families.
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