How on earth
To honor the ways of heaven?
While we toil
To make bread without leaven?
Holy and pure You are.
Humbled I am – how near, yet far.
With arms stretched out,
I can touch Your face.
With arms held high,
I receive Your grace.
That You would choose me
Is beyond my comprehension.
How could You love me?
It is Your divine intention.
©️Rachel D. Lyne