I am so finite, sinful, and imperfect;
I’ve failed a thousand times, I’m less than whole,
Yet still You take this weary soul, and use it
To bless other imperfect, finite souls.
You choose to use this human, though I’m messy;
Despite my imperfections, You show grace
And through me, bless some soul who needs some blessing—
You show her that You’re near, through my embrace…
Or through my mouth, speak words that heal and comfort…
What is this, LORD, that You would shine through ME?
Or how’s it that those words I spoke so rashly
Had an effect on his eternity?
Mysterious ways You use to reach Your people,
And until heaven, I won’t fully see
Why You have chosen US to build Your Kingdom—
Imperfect sinners saved, Your hands and feet.