Feet Of Clay

Man was fashioned from the dust;
and, as dust, I was destined to stay;
it’s required, that, in God I’ll trust;
for, I only have feet made of clay.

Throughout life, I began to mature;
but failures oft stood in my path;
for the things of life that had allure;
were bringing the Master’s wrath.

We play the part, the Master has planned;
each leaf falls, from its very own tree;
the river of life, flows at His command;
and I must be, who He chose me to be.

And yet, I sought that shiny brass ring;
the phantom trophy of life’s success;
thinking I could do most anything;
placing my soul in extreme duress.

I’ve felt I’d been, a disappointment;
to my father below; and Father above;
not imagining I had an anointment;
to share, with mere words, His Love.

Many, close to me, have left this world;
left on my own; I feel in the way.
Can it be, the Master has plans unfurled;
for this child with mere feet of clay?

The Master has great wonders to perform;
Love became clay, in the garden above;
with power so great; He need not reform
but, return those clay feet back to Love.