Idolatry

Father give me the humble things
Take away my pride
For I am Your child Lord
And a part of Your Bride.
And pride has no place here.
Give me no duty that would exalt me high
No poem for people to view me by
That does not in it hold some truth
Some confession that I
Am not better than You.
Let me never be so proud
As to take up a sword
And strike someone down
With the power of Your word.
For I am no warrior, no princess
No priestess
But a slave.
A slave of the Master
Whose life He laid
Down for the down-trodden
Down for the low
For sinners like me,
He laid Himself low.
And in humility He came,
So Lord humble me.
Let me not crave the praise
That mens lips would sing,
Of me.
Lord please
Let no idol
Be made of me.
Especially not by me.

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