Poetry

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Whatever I asked, of God in prayer
then I cannot take it back
When I asked of Him for that perfect love
of my heart to load and stack
The request has gone out, of my mouth
and of it, I dare not refrain
And it matters not what the cost
or even, how much the pain
I have to wait on Him to bring it to past
in however long, this trial will last
My soul is resting, in His care
for Him to handle the whole affair
I now hold the cup of suffering
so I will close the door of my mind
and just encourage myself through it all
and believe, He will be on time
For sweet victory, has been promised
and I know that it won't be long
Meanwhile I'll drink, of the cup of suffering
then I'll be able to sing a new song
So do what you want, of me O' Lord
have thine own way, with this flesh
For you know all, that it will take
for little O' me to come out fresh
I am only, but the clay
that's trying to yield to your will
So go on and mold me, the way you desire
but, just help my soul to be still
For the more you break me, the better I am
The more you make me, better works I can do
so I'll do well, to let you prune me
and wait until you get through
Chip off all, those knots and bumps
help this clay to obey your intentions
Clear out all those hindering lumps
and anything else, that I failed to mention
Lord just keep, on molding me
for you can see, what I don't see
so have your way with this thou clay
for you know what it needs to be
Work me over, from head to toe
Don't let me take, my prayer back from you
Do whatever it takes, for me to be that vessel
that will obey more, when you get through
O' clay can you, drink of His cup
Will you endure, and never give up
and drink of the bitter along with the sweet
will you forever, your heart entreat

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