This imperfect vessel made of soft clay
Can't hold all the precious blessings
So gingerly upon my psyche you lay.
Why should I crave for what is not mine?
What is mine O Lord! Is only a gift of thine.
Make me strong! Make me hardy.
You have put a brush in my hand
Let my strokes be any thing but tardy.
An emotional, gentle, and personal prayer; a heart communicating with the heart of God.
A great prayer of a poetic soul.. touching one so precisely expressed Thanks for sharing dear mam
What a tender poem! You are addressing the Lord of the Universe and the Creator of all things Visible and Invisible. But there's no theology or special pleading or vain boasting. This is a sweet conversation with God, person-to-person. You lift up your soul in quiet devotion, confident that God's answer will be a whisper in your heart. Religion means relationship and the relationship you present here is love and trust.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It should be a prayer that is to come out from the heart of a true human being whose minf has been polished and polished for decades