My Father owns the cattle on a thousand hills

He knows every bird of the mountains

At His voice, the fierce ocean storm has been stilled

His love is an endless, ceaseless fountain.

Every hair on my head has been numbered

He calls each of the stars by their names

Loving God neither sleeps nor slumbers,

When I sin, He looks not with disdain.

He calls me His child,

How can that be?

Why doesn’t He throw me away?

He knows I’m of dust,

He made me, you see,

But now I’ve been turned into clay.

Clay must be thrown

Pressed and worked out

Shaped and molded just so

Mysterious to me

What use He’ll allow

Lord mold me, I want to be Yours.


2 thoughts on “Yours

  1. Thanks for sharing Juli! It was so encouraging to talk last night. What a blessing to go through life together and sharing one another’s burdens.

  2. I LOVE that.. thanks for posting the picture and the song… what an awesome reminder at the start of the day!!! Hope you have a wonderful day my friend! :)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s