Look Unto Me

I was afraid to even pray

"Thy will be done."

I held so tightly to my way,

Afraid to kneel.

For, though I knew at Calvary

My Savior won,

Still, distant storm clouds frightened me;

But now I feel--

His tender voice is bringing warmth

Amidst the cold,

His gentle arm is holding me 

Safe and secure,

His calming peace, His boundless love,

Infinite grace, strength from above,

"Look not unto what lies ahead,

Look unto Me."

Though trials may come, though storms arise,

Yet will I sing.

With yielded will, I fix my eyes

Upon my Lord,

Finding my hope in Him alone,

My sovereign King,

Holding His hand to lead me Home,

Trusting His Word.

And looking not unto the path ahead,

Let come what may, I do not fear or dread,

For I have heard my Savior say to me, 

"Not to the future, but unto Me bow the knee."

His tender voice is bringing warmth

Amidst the cold,

His gentle arm is holding me 

Safe and secure,

His calming peace, His boundless love,

Infinite grace, strength from above,

"Look not unto what lies ahead,

Look unto Me."

Copyright © Elisabeth Linzey 2015

*This is a Song

Sacrifice

It’s all a waste. What worth had it,

But just to feed the flame?

The effort wrought, the accomplishment—

Was everything in vain?

That into which I’d poured my all

Here, now, in ashes lay,

I thought I’d hearkened the noble call

But it seemed to waste away.

The best that I could offer up

Now lies as smoking coals—

Each fondest dream, each brim-full cup,

And all my worthy goals.

Each one placed on the altar—

How it shined with holy fire!

But as the smoke has blown afar,

There’s nought I can acquire.

Then, with a quaking majesty,

Yet, more tender than the dew,

His voice of power captured me

And whispered fresh and new.

“A sacrifice, an offering

Is all I ask of thee—

Not crowns or cities, priests or kings,

But pure humility.

I do not need you to remove

Great, rugged mountains high,

Or mend each worldly flaw and groove,

For that alone is Mine.

Each goal and aspiration,

Though noble they may be,

Are by My inspiration—

Yet, I have much more for thee.

They are provisions for sacrifice,

To be an offering;

What I desire more than price

Is drawing you to Me.

Those things are good and right to hold,

But greater they will be

When placed upon the fire

And offered willingly.

For, more than every noblest call,

More valuable by far,

Is when My child releases all

And gives her very heart.

Copyright © Elisabeth Linzey 2015