Good Poem
What's that on the ground?
It's what's left of my heart.
Somebody name Jesus broke it to pieces,
And planted the shards,
and they're coming up green,
They're coming in bloom,
I can hardly believe this is all coming true.
Just as I am and Just as I was,
Just as I will be he loves me, he does.
He showed me the day that he shed his own blood,
he loves me, oh, he loves me, he does.
All of my life I've held on to this fear,
These thistles and vines, ensnare and entwine,
What flowers appeared.
It's the fear that I'll fall one too many times,
It's the fear that his love is no better than mine,
(but he tells me that)
Just as I am and just as I was,
Just as I will be he loves me, he does,
He showed me the day that he shed his own blood,
He loves me, oh, he loves me, he does.
Well it's time now to harvest what little that grew,
This man they call Jesus, who planted the seeds,
Has come for the fruit.
And the best that I've got, isn't nearly enough,
He's glad for the crop, but it's me that he loves.
by Andrew Peterson
It's what's left of my heart.
Somebody name Jesus broke it to pieces,
And planted the shards,
and they're coming up green,
They're coming in bloom,
I can hardly believe this is all coming true.
Just as I am and Just as I was,
Just as I will be he loves me, he does.
He showed me the day that he shed his own blood,
he loves me, oh, he loves me, he does.
All of my life I've held on to this fear,
These thistles and vines, ensnare and entwine,
What flowers appeared.
It's the fear that I'll fall one too many times,
It's the fear that his love is no better than mine,
(but he tells me that)
Just as I am and just as I was,
Just as I will be he loves me, he does,
He showed me the day that he shed his own blood,
He loves me, oh, he loves me, he does.
Well it's time now to harvest what little that grew,
This man they call Jesus, who planted the seeds,
Has come for the fruit.
And the best that I've got, isn't nearly enough,
He's glad for the crop, but it's me that he loves.
by Andrew Peterson
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