Self Image

I call You, Lord,
And shy away, from all You have to give;
I dare to call You Father,
And my spirit starts to live.

I can’t conceive a Lordly One
Could ever care for me,
Or that the One, who rules the world
Would die to set me free.

Yet when I call You Father
And allow Your love to flow;
Then all Your might and majesty,
You gently to me show.

You ask that I should trust You,
A simple task ‘twould seem;
Yet love I once was sure of,
Seems but a distant dream.

Why should it be so hard a task,
To hold this love You’ve shown?
To simply bring to memory
The promises I’ve known.

It seems a poor excuse,
One I’ve no right to spout,
To say that all my hope and trust,
Has been replaced by doubt.

I do not doubt that God exists,
And rules o’er land and sea;
But that this Lord Almighty,
Should truly care for me.

A doubt that’s quite unfounded,
As I daily tend my tasks;
And find that God is always there,
To help me when I ask.

His love is not condemning,
Though oft’ I let Him down;
Yet if I look, His smile I see,
Not some expected frown.

His patience is long suffering,
And long He suffers me;
For all my fears and doubting,
His love won’t cease to be.

His love is never ending,
He pours it from above,
And soaks this hurting child of His,
In His cleansing, healing love.

No more I’ll doubt nor stumble,
A claim I long to make;
But ‘tis only wishful thinking,
Such promises I’d break.

But trusting in His goodness,
I’ll edge ever slowly forward,
And try to place my doubts and fears,
In the strong hands of my Lord.

Copyright^© 2002 Ailsa Yates