Isn't it just like the Lord to invite me,

to put all my dreams in His hands,

Forever releasing the grip that once held them so tightly,

Forever surrendering my plans,

And then when He's certain it's not born of men,

He calls for the fire to rekindle again,

And ask me to know in my heart what's not seen with my eyes,

So that after the pruning process,

the dream never dies.

written on
11:11 PM