I like to think that I'd like to see
A man, a man, a man who is me,
that does some work, so valiantly.
But I'm afraid that I cannot see
Any kind of fruit bore by my tree.
"No fruit at all," I think despairingly.
But here's the truth, I hope you agree
Things are happening that I cannot see.
Mountains are moving, and so are the seas
The earth is shaking and wobbly
Bonds are loosed and captives set free
Because of the work that is done by me.
Call me vain, it won't hurt my glee.
Call me blind, but I know I can see
That the Mover, the Shaker, the Worshipee,
The Looser, the Maker, the King of Kings
Is doing the work behind the scenes-
Not us who are likened to naught but a flea
But Him who eternally loves thou and thee
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