Oh Father, do Thou speak to me, and open up my heart

I must confess I do not know just where I ought to start

At once so strange and yet so real, the life that's come to be

I'm broken and I'm strongest still, I'm bonded and yet free


I'm lost within the misty vale that must define my mind

(For while I walk apart from Thee I know that I am blind)

But now my selfish soul submits. I know what I have done

I can't forget forever the kindness of your Son


I'm lingering on strange effects and on all the mystery

Myself I give importance, but never unto Thee

'Tis what I feel, and what I think, and what I have become

Not what You are, and what You want, and what it is You've done


"My God, I am imperfect." I make the common cry

That poor excuse won't longer do now that You've come to die

You gave me all in every way, but selfish to the core

Although I've lost, now that I have gained it seems I wish still more


Somewhere within my sinner's heart, a single spark of light

Condemns me now for my misdeed and warns it isn't right

All I have and all I am, and everything I see

T'is not my will, but what Thou'st done. Give glory unto Thee


I want to, Lord! I want to love just where I know it's due

But it's obvious I'm selfish when it comes to loving You

The tender friends that You surround are dearest to my heart

Thus I forget Your generous care and everything Thou art


More than life or death to me! Thus strongly I declare

(I know my friends are all impressed by what I've written there)

But do I truly, Loving God, pour out my heart for Thee?

Or simply express myself and centre it on me?


Alas. I feel the Truth hit home, and know it isn't so

The selfishness remains throughout and everywhere I go

Have mercy unto me, My Lord, condemn me not for sin

Somewhere I feel despite it all that there is love within.


Love created by Your touch- just like a errant child

Who knows despite her wicked ways her Father's heart is mild

I feast upon the care You give. Then when I come to pray

I'm loving Giver for the Gift in everything I say.


If You in wisdom witheld all, (so I confess in shame)

The joy and praise that I now give would rapidly be blame.

What is the worth, my Lord, I ask, in giving such as me

Such gifts as life and love and peace, and joy and liberty?


You give it still, despite it all. Despite my errant heart

And watch with quiet sorrow as I selfishly depart.

Forgive me, Father, for the wrong I day by day commit

Although I surface-wise comply and surface-wise submit


"I don't deserve it." I look down, and with a mournful sigh

Pretend I know the Truth of that, and try to justify.

So what if I acknowledge it? What is that to Thee-

If my heart is focused still on everything that's me?


I give it back in helplessness. I cannot change my soul.

The only hope of any change is in my God's control

I know the right from what is wrong. And so my final prayer

Is to surrender selfishness into my Father's care.