Playing at Your Feet

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I know
that you are so much
more
than I.
I can see
that you are so
holy
and I,
I can tell
that I should be
groveling
in your presence . . .
But when I
come to you—
in filthy rags
You draw me to you,
and I am like
a child—
playing at your
feet,
resting in your
arms,
lifting my hands that you are
holding—
And I know
who I am now
and I can see
that who you are
is so much more—
and still
your love surrounds me,
draws me to my feet,
lifts me in your arms
and I
am completely in love with you.

 

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