I think of myself
as a frail child of God.
Understanding little
in a world of crippled souls.
I bewail the plight of the children
born to wander in the sea,
swim in deserts,
fly in caves
and die in holes.

My sins lay heavy on me now,
the things I've left undone.
And every conscious hour
I keep looking for the sun.
It's mire and clay and ugly things,
that's all my eyes can see.
But when I contemplate Thy Beauty I know
that the radiance of me is Thee.

So I tread the ancient way
without capacity,
believing that the Promise
is redeemed by Glory's hand.
There is sighing of the millions
over ancient battle fields.
Man can only draw his shadow in the sand.

My sins lay on me heavy now,
the things I've left undone,
and every conscious hour
I keep looking for the sun.
It's mire and clay and ugly things,
that's all my eyes can see.
But when i conyemplate Thy Beauty I know
that the radiance of me is Thee.