Your Way Lord, Not Mine
“Does not the potter have the right to make out of the same lump of clay some pottery for noble purposes and some for common use?”
I don’t live my life on a whim,
Though lately I’m blown and tossed by wind.
Surrounded by walls of gray,
My purpose descend I pray.
Existing in continual strife,
Handing the enemy my sharpest knife.
Seeking favor through my labor,
From mere man, and not my Savior.
My Potter the Creator, instills the certain gifts,
Is mine that I adore Him even as I drift?
No idea my calling as I wander to and fro,
Waiting always watching with longing in my soul,
To see what I am here for,
Oh Deity please show!
Perhaps what I aspire to, I am not equipped,
I lost my way to grandeur and
From Your path I’ve slipped.
I know not what to ask for,
Oh God please hear my plea,
Set my sight on Your way, that You’ve laid out
Patti D. Hemphill