Much Less

 We may think we know what's best.

But by far we think much less.

What we hold so deep within.

Could never set us free from sin.


We may say we are above.

And perhaps we fly like a dove.

Yet our words can sometimes bring.

Heartache, tears and no song to sing.


If we take the time to know.

Just how much we ought to grow.

Maybe then the way might be.

A path so clear that we can see.


Give a thought to what lies ahead.

So that you cannot be diminished with dread.

Let your prayer be boulders thrown.

To hit on heaven's door to learn.


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