Thy Will My Goal Poem by Marguerite Atkins

Make me this day, Lord, wholly Thine, Make me Thy instrument
But waiting to receive the song--Thy song of Love, when sent.

Oh, I would be the waters clear, on river bed, so still
But waiting to be moved by the current of Thy will.

Like forest tree that stands and waits the storm's adversity,
O may I stand-be bent-cut down in wind that comes from Thee.

If instrument, or river wide, or tree, or human soul: Thy Will always my hope, O God, my Source, My Guide, My Goal.