Me Lord , Just Me
The Armor I wear is so tattered and torn
But it's not my Saviour, it's from being worn.
I have carried it like a burden for so very long
But now my strength is almost gone.
The dents and the damage is from all the falls
Where I have been running from your call.
I am praying Lord you keep me in the palm of your hand
Help me to reach out to my fellow man.
It seems as if sometimes I just say Me
But that's not what's in my heart as you can see.
Help me not to just speak words but to do also in deed
I know precious Lord you know what I need.
So forgive me Lord for asking for things for myself
Help me to put my feelings high upon the shelf.
But now my desire is to be so much like you
My hopes and dreams to do what you'd have me to.
I want the devil to know not what he does see
To not be able to tell the difference between you and me.
© By Harriett Dash 2001