I cannot put a label on You Lord
You’re not a song in my heart
You’re not a vision in the night
You’re not the still small voice
that roars like thunder through the soul
These are just ways You show Yourself
But You Lord
You are the great mystery
The unseen hand that lovingly creates
And patiently molds the clay
And all the while the clay cries out
“Why have You made me thus?”
The soul runs to and fro
Searching for ways You show Yourself
While You watch with wise eyes
from inside
If I had a prayer, Lord
I would pray for the very essence of God
which You are
To come and live within this piece of clay
which You did