Poetry, musings, and rambles

A daughter’s prayer

Grow me, strong and firm, as the hardy oak tree stands

Mold me, soft and gentle, as the clay inside Your hands

Bridle me, sober and discreet, as the dead broke horse

Raise me, sure and mighty, as the waves that crash with force

Sand me, smooth and even, as the timber in my room

Humble me, pure and thankful, as the babe within the womb

Warm me, kind and nurturing, as a mother’s tender love

Teach me, wise and innocent, as the serpent and the dove

Make me, please, oh Lord, the daughter I ought to be

My life is Yours; I’m not my own, and that is well with me

Let me serve, do kingdom work, and glorify Your name

As Your bride, my aim in life is to be without spot or blame

— Erica Dansereau

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