You made the heaven and the earth;
You set the stars in place.
Your word brought sun and moon to birth;
You formed the edge of space.
You’re not impressed by pedigree,
By what my hands can do;
You don’t desire some gift from me –
I cannot add to You.
Yet You are generous and kind
With all that You possess;
You want some humble soul to find,
A contrite heart to bless.
You gave Your Son to make me fit
For other gifts You planned;
The poor in spirit You’ll admit
To heaven’s perfect land.
Dear Lord, I see I cannot bring
The smallest thing to You;
I come in need of everything
Assured Your Word is true.
Christina Joy Hommes