Oft' there's no place to go.
About the stuff I don't know.
So up on the altar I throws it.
Minding He already knows it.
I breathe a sigh of relief -
Now so much less grief.
No more fussin' and fumin',
Trying to unravel confusion.
The more I give up, I believe,
The more easily I can breathe.
My life isn't my own -
Though some say I'm wrong.
Loved ones have said, "Get a grip!
Grab your life – write the script!"
But they recommend sin...
Mixing it in...not calling it Sin...
You know – "Leave that face!
Get out of that place!
Go on now, get a life!
Who needs that much strife!"
But some thing's amiss.
I may be a mrs -
But I also have honor
in being a Princess.
My Dad is Judge and King.
And knows each difficult thing
I deal with day to day.
I'm so not alone, so hey…
You get the grip and see.
How nothing in life is easy.
The devil offers disaster
When in your ear he'll plaster
"Quick - run to greener pasture!"
At lying, he is a master.
Go ahead, run to the field.
Now look down at your feet,
See... worms are there,
Thistles and weeds to despair
Seems like you musta brought'em,
Though left behind, you thought 'em.
So you get the grip
Don't call me a wimp
So what if I limp
Down here, I'm a temp…
Facing ten devils a day
I'll keep laying them all
On the Rock of MyAltar
And though I may seem lost;
By troubles wildly tossed,
The Potter works His tender plan,
I, once a child, now, becoming man.
.
