I won’t lie
I will crumble in your arms like clay if u were to ever say,
I am not the person you want me to be

I will break apart because your criticisms stones
Shattering the image of perfection I see when it comes to me and my personality alone
Your words will be knives cutting their way through a forest of hidden pride
And just one word from you, one rebuke, one rejection, will have me feeling exposed
Your words will tear of my cloak of perfection and I will feel lost
Human
Seeing myself for what I am
A weak man, in need of something supernatural to clean him up

Grace is for everyone

So If I’m not the person I want people to see
Then I must be the humble person that allows grace to change me
And that might mean, hearing some rebukes, seeing some flaws
Coming to terms with the fact that that I am not perfect at all
Need to be continuously changed by the word
Pride must bow down
Learn, grow, accept rebukes gracefully
There’s enough grace to change even the worst things about me

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=faNij71hh7o

My heart's cry these day!

The words are from a long nar­ra­tive poem, “The Brew­ing of So­ma.” It de­scribes Ve­dic priests go­ing in­to the for­est and drink­ing them­selves into a stu­por with a con­coct­ion called “soma.” They try to have a re­li­gious ex­per­i­ence and con­tact the spir­it world. It is af­ter set­ting that scene that Whit­tier draws his les­son: “Dear Lord, and Fa­ther of man­kind, for­give our fool­ish ways…” This hymn is as rel­e­vant to­day as when it was writ­ten. In a mod­ern con­text, it speaks to the drug cul­ture, and those look­ing for an “experience” to prove the re­al­i­ty of God. I love it because even if it's not drinking and all of that, we all have our own flaws and our hearts can with sincerity cry this. Every stanza speaks of something that is so dear to me, cause I do allot of foolish things

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Dear Lord and Father of mankind,
Forgive our foolish ways;
Reclothe us in our rightful mind,
In purer lives Thy service find,
In deeper reverence, praise.

In simple trust like theirs who heard,
Beside the Syrian sea,
The gracious calling of the Lord,
Let us, like them, without a word,
Rise up and follow Thee.

O Sabbath rest by Galilee,
O calm of hills above,
Where Jesus knelt to share with Thee
The silence of eternity,
Interpreted by love!

With that deep hush subduing all
Our words and works that drown
The tender whisper of Thy call,
As noiseless let Thy blessing fall
As fell Thy manna down.

Drop Thy still dews of quietness,
Till all our strivings cease;
Take from our souls the strain and stress,
And let our ordered lives confess
The beauty of Thy peace.

Breathe through the heats of our desire
Thy coolness and Thy balm;
Let sense be dumb, let flesh retire;
Speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire,
O still, small voice of calm.

Reference: http://www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/d/e/dearlord.htm