What will you make of yourself
in this world, friend?
Something, I hope, for your sake.
For this world tips dismal and bitter
with a wind whiff and we’re helpless,
we’ll all stumble, but for grace.
Grace: It tears our pride down, mightily,
and rightfully, and when our guard’s down,
ooof it hurts so good to be seen
in all our mess and still embraced
with sincerity and clarity by a God
who wants to meet us face to face.
Face Him and glory be those eyes are honest,
the strongest and most gentle all at once,
He says I’m loved, cared for, set free
if I’ll just drink from this living source I’ll see
and know that He is good and my liberty
comes from surrender: not what I make
of myself, but what I let Him make of me.