The Roots of Faith
My faith should be on the surface
For everyone to see,
My faith should dig down deep as well
Into the depths of me.

Rooting from the heart
And stemming through my veins,
Bursting from my body
In numerous melodic strains.

My faith should set my soul afire
With flames so bright and clear,
That people from a distance
Will feel the warmth and its roaring hear.

My faith should not be on the surface
Without first coming from the heart,
Just like a flower cannot show its face
Without being buried from the start.

A Daily Struggle
My life, I know, is not mine own
Although I grasp and cling and cleave
And weave my will as I am prone
Throughout this life God's given me.
This life God gave so I might give
It fully back to who bestowed
And yet I strive to snatch and live
This life as if to none I owed.
If only God would grant the grace
To live each day for Him alone,
Resting in no other place
But in my Savior's blessed home.
Ah! Then I'd live this life for Him
And give it daily back again!

The Mirror
I gazed into a mirror
And beheld a face I knew.
A face with faults and flaws
Of which there weren't a few.

I left that telling mirror
And went on my way.
Forgetting what I saw there
As I went about my day.

I gazed into the Bible
And beheld a soul I knew.
A soul with faults and flaws
Of which there weren't a few.

I left that Holy Book
And went on my way.
Forgetting what I say there
As I went about my day.

We must not only read
And understand our sin,
We must work with all our heart
To set it straight again.

The next time you gaze
Into the Word of God,
And see your very soul there
And a heart that is flawed;

Leave the Book with a purpose
And go about your way.
Remember what you saw there
And work on it that day.

James 1: 22-25

Your Eyes Are Ever Fixed
Wherever You are Lord,
You are fully there.
Every part of You is listening
When I offer up a prayer.

Your omnipresence shines
And thrills my very heart,
For Lord I have You fully
Not just a random part.

When I turn my eyes to You,
I find with utter glee,
That Your eyes are ever fixed
And fastened upon me.

No need have I to turn
Your thoughts unto my way.
Your thoughts ever dwell there
As I go about the day.

So when I turn my eyes
In search of Your dear face,
I find You ever loyal
Within Your faithful place.

To all You call Your own,
Such love You do bestow.
I may not understand it,
But I believe it and I know:

You will never be too busy
That Your eye will turn and stray.
You will never be too busy
That You neglect to watch my way.

Praise You precious Jesus!
Your love I ever feel.
Praise You precious Jesus!
Your care is very real.

And when I turn my eyes to You,
I find with utter glee,
That Your eyes are ever fixed
And fastened upon me.

Worldly Folly
They deem the day to be just fine
And laugh and dream and drink their wine.
With merry step they trod the ground
To music with its lilting sound.
And with a cry they say "Heave Ho"
To duties they have just let go.
With light and empty heads they play
Giddy screams pervert the day,
And never do they feel the pains
Of services they have refrained.
But with hearty cry and reeling head
They take themselves unto their bed,
To rise next morn with fleeting heart
And play the fool with charming art.
And thus they drink and dance and eat
With empty eyes and tapping feet
They carry on with lilting tread
They carry on until they're dead.

Diamonds in Your Heart
You take the hammer of affliction
And set it to my heart of stone.
Patiently You chisel, Lord,
To make me Your beloved own.

I am chipped beneath Your hands,
Hands that hurt to bring me peace,
And yet I feel so broken Lord,
A forgotten stone, a formless piece.

I can only see the loss, my Lord.
I cannot see the gain.
Where is the promised good
That will come from all this pain?

I see the hammer rise again.
Must it fall once more?
When shall the promised respite come,
The joy You have in store?

Dear Father, I feel myself broken
And shattered at Your feet.
Could this be written in Your plan,
Or have we met defeat?

And yet through pain I hear Your voice
Washing softly over me.
Stirring thoughts within my soul,
Causing sightless eyes to see.

"You can only see, my child
The cracks and fissures in your heart,
But I see a jewel being formed
With perfect flawless art.

"You are beautiful when broken
Although it's hard to see.
You radiate when broken
And increase your worth to Me.

"It's only when you're broken
My dearly beloved one,
That you are made whole
Through the work that I have done.

"When next you feel the pain
Threaten to tear you apart,
Recall that I am forming
Diamonds in your heart."

Bubbles on a Windy Day
Our lives take on a scary form
When in our will we soar and fly
Our flight runs into an utter storm
And we fall helpless from the sky.
For when we depend on human strength
Strength that fails and oft' will break
We come to the end of our rope's length
And realize our foolish mistake.
We become like bubbles on a windy day
Twisting and writhing on the wind
Circling and spinning on our way
Driving where the breeze would send.
How unstable, how filled with crisis
Is a life left to its own devices.

The Sword
What can change the heart of stone
That hardened long ago to truth?
What can bring it straggling home
When it wandered after idle proof?
The heart that is calloused with worldly gains
Finds it hard to accept what it cannot see.
It cannot accept the life of pains
That comes from infinite fidelity.
No honeyed words of practiced men
Will crack the stonework of the heart
No produce of the masterful pen
Will break the iron will apart.
The Word of God is the sharpened sword
That alone cleaves the heart with a holy word.

The English Woodland Garden
Somehow being silent
Explains away my fears.
Just sitting in this garden
Dries away my tears.

God is very real somehow
In a silent wooded glen.
Just sit very softly
And you'll hear His voice again.

He speaks sometimes in thunder
In majesty and light,
But somehow He is nearer
When I am very quiet.

In this shady little nook
Tucked between the trees,
I feel God's very presence
And hear His voice within the breeze.

Not for Glory, Father
Not for glory, Father,
Not for mine,
I must save the glory,
For it is wholly Thine.

I am only a vessel,
Just molded clay,
Thou art the Potter,
And fill me each day.

The glory I hold,
Comes not from me,
For God fills this vessel,
With His purity.

I am just the servant,
Whom God did awake,
Give not the glory to me,
It is not mine to take.

Unworthy am I,
My Master doth know,
Pray, take the glory,
And on Him bestow.

I must remember the pledge,
In whatever I do,
These words on my lips,
From the heart to You…

Not for glory, Father,
Not for mine,
I must save the glory,
For it is wholly Thine.