To Be Called A Servant

 You have separated me, from the rest of the pack..

You have called me forth and will give me no lack.

Where you will take me, is not for the rest..

For the chosen ones, are your very best.

The path I go, I must travel alone..

Though loneliness, fear and sorrow may groan.

Gone are the days, when friends were kind..

Today and tomorrow, I drink the fruit of the vine.

The yearning of my desert, far across the miles..

The trampled courses, of darkness without

smiles..

 Hugs of the fiercest, wind on my knees..

Intertwine with favour, from the God who sees.

Pretty as a picture, is the love in my heart..

Though broken and bruised and often torn apart.

To be called as a servant, to wash men's feet..

Is a privilege and honour, for those I must meet.

Often on the ground, when I lay my head..

I look up to heaven and thank God, to be wed.

I count myself worthy, as a child of the King..

To take my cross daily and with rejoicing to sing.