You said, "Let go."
I heard, "Give up",
and knew it wasn't You;
For giving up is not a thing that You would have me do.
You would have me persevere,
stick-to-it, stay true;
grab on the dilemma's horns
and ride it through.
There the words are again, quieter but clear.
What could You mean, dear Lord?
I pray my thoughts You'll steer.
And then today I placed a plant into its little hole,
Around its roots I nudged good soil,
And then I let it go.
But give up on it I did not do,
Instead with expectation
I sprinkled it with water
And in my mind envisioned what would happen to this flower
As soil and rain and sun
Did for it things that I alone could not have done.
Again the words: "Let go."
And now I understand.
You're only asking me to put it in Your hands.
Then You invite me back to cooperate with You,
To pinch a leaf or give a drink or swat a bug or two.
But always in Your hands is where it has to stay;
If any good's to come of it Yours is the only way.
I bring my burden now, Lord,
I wrap it in a prayer.
I place it in Your hands, Lord,
And I will leave it there.
When You have a part for me to play,
I'm at Your beck and call.
But in the meantime I will wait,
And trust You with it all.
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