Submission
By Kenneth Robinson
I wanted to do great deeds of fame,
Something of worth for God;
I scorned the service that often coes
By walking where servants trod.
I craved the place where the highest sit,
I wanted to do and dare;
But the job that needed the grace and grit
Was ignored with the utmost care.
One day I sought the face of the Lord
For the plan He had for me;
And I earnestly searched His precious Word
To know what His will could be.
I opened my heart to hear His voice,
And He searched me through and through
And He showed me that my selfish choice
Was neither wise nor true.
So I yielded all, and I really died
To my selfish heart's desire;
And the carnal man was crucified
In a Pentecostal fire.
Ah, now I cry, "Lord, let me be
But a cog in Life's great wheel;
Only let me work that the world may see
The light of the Spirit's seal."
I do not ask for the highest way,
I'll walk where the servants trod;
I only ask that my path each day
Shall lead me close to God.
From My Mother's Poetry Notebook
By Kenneth Robinson
I wanted to do great deeds of fame,
Something of worth for God;
I scorned the service that often coes
By walking where servants trod.
I craved the place where the highest sit,
I wanted to do and dare;
But the job that needed the grace and grit
Was ignored with the utmost care.
One day I sought the face of the Lord
For the plan He had for me;
And I earnestly searched His precious Word
To know what His will could be.
I opened my heart to hear His voice,
And He searched me through and through
And He showed me that my selfish choice
Was neither wise nor true.
So I yielded all, and I really died
To my selfish heart's desire;
And the carnal man was crucified
In a Pentecostal fire.
Ah, now I cry, "Lord, let me be
But a cog in Life's great wheel;
Only let me work that the world may see
The light of the Spirit's seal."
I do not ask for the highest way,
I'll walk where the servants trod;
I only ask that my path each day
Shall lead me close to God.
From My Mother's Poetry Notebook
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