Before she is yours, she is His;
You want her flourishing, and you should;
But only He knows, what her flourishing is;
Why then the burden?
On your frail shoulders?
Could they carry it?
That great weight:
her flourishing.
And why the pressure?
In your finite mind?
Can you fathom it?
That reality:
her flourishing.
And why the pacing?
With your fainting legs?
Would they sustain it?
That grand end:
her flourishing.
And
Why the grasping?
By your feeble hands?
Will they deliver
That which you cannot carry,
That which you cannot fathom,
That which you cannot sustain:
her flourishing?
Before she is yours,
She is His.
He will not leave it,
her flourishing,
Up to you.
She’s worth far too much to Him,
To allow you to carry,
To fathom,
To sustain,
To deliver,
What only He can:
her flourishing.