Oh Lord, amend my earthen wants
and mute the voice that pride ensconced
I have not the whispers to fathom my own;
I am still seedling that You have sown.
The mound of my portion glows glory near-
never fall darkness in the veil of a tear.
Mortal remains to root out in these hours
All could not fill to serve God and His powers.
Clay earthen waters reach to oceans’ appease.
Oh, My Father; Son Jesu, of the Galilee seas,
this Life in me, Love may Thy Glory proceed
The cup filled with Him, O the Treasure indeed.
©2015 Linda Willows