Nothing To Offer But Myself
I am your child, Lord, what can I do?
I don't know how to work for You.
I don't even know how to teach or preach,
and I'm too scared to witness with a speech.
I'm even afraid to pray out loud;
terrified to venture out in a crowd.
It seems there's nothing You'd want me to do,
so I'll just yield myself, dear Lord, to You.
"You are My child," I heard our Lord say,
"trust completely in Me to take your fear away.
I don't call anyone whom I cannot use,
whom I can't equip with My Good News.
You don't need to know how to teach or pray,
but be willing to do just what I say.
Look, My child, at the harvest field.
I gave it to you when you first said you'd yield.
Now, GO, My child, in blessed peace;
just be yourself, I'll give the increase."
Timidly, I then let down my guard
and, yes, His work was often hard.
I worked long hours with no earthly reward,
yet only a few came seeking my Lord.
Distressed, I felt weighted down, perplexed.
My soul was weary and sorely vexed.
The words I spoke were not my own.
the prayers I prayed were broken groans.
But the Holy Spirit took my plea
and interceded to Christ for me.
Thus, I didn't stop to count the cost,
but yielded my love beneath His cross.
He heard my cry...He used my deeds
and nurtured previously planted seeds.
He let me see fields I'd once walked through
were now being harvested by you...and you!
He took my efforts, howbeit small;
then multiplying, He had used them all.
A telephone call, a comforting word,
became planted seeds that others heard.
Each kindness I'd done, each card to a friend
became part of His harvest in the end.
I'd had nothing to offer but I did my best,
I yielded myself...and God did the rest.
Dorothea K. Barwick ©1994
Used with permission.
To contact author, please send email to: handmaidencreations@sc.rr.com
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