I'm the kind of person who skips to the conversation when reading a book.
What do You want with this foolish heart?
It is so small and petty.
It holds on to wrongs when it should let go —
Remembers, when it should forgetty.
Why do You want this shallow heart?
It frets about things so silly,
Matters that have no consequence,
That are trivial and trifle-y.
What do You see in the vapid soul?
Insipid, tiresome, unworthy.
You are God and all things good.
I am all things earth-y.
I fret and I fail; I get angered and irked;
I hold grudges and fail to forgive.
But You patiently lift me, again and again,
Urging me on to live.
Why do You want me, O Lord, my God?
What do you see in me?
Yet the image of God is stamped on my soul;
O Lord, how can this be?