The Mold

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Because we are but clay, the Father wants to mold each of us. I am no exception.

This is one that I wrote some time ago. I hope you like it.

The Mold

I don’t know who I am
And that’s a good thing
I can’t know who I am
So how can I sing

In this land
Foreign place if you will
Dream in this land
Or have wishes fulfilled

Satisfied, completed
Or brought to pass
Develop in destiny
Present or future; Past

Tense is how the Father sees it
For it has already taken place
Who I am has always been
It’s just for me to embrace

It as it comes to me
Piece by little piece
Face it as it comes to me
Not in the much but in the least

Little part I should
Give thanks
A little piece of my heart
A little higher in rank

Toward destiny fulfilled
Purpose being revealed
Another piece of the puzzle
Enough to help me deal

With the here and now
To hold on to what’s to be
To cherish my future
While I still can’t see

What He’s called me to be
The role I am to play
My altogetherness
Unveiled, out on display

For all the world to see
That He finishes what He starts,
To know I’m His creation
He built me from His heart


Thank you for reading and following dorothy’s page

dorothy’s page © 2008 Dorothy E. Young

15 thoughts on “The Mold

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