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.