Broken, like glass that’s fallen, that's what I am,
into pieces, a thousand fragments, broken by
every shattered dream and every time I fail,
every word of anger, each time hate prevails.
And though glass can cut like nails
still You pick up these jagged pieces
though they wound You with pain and pride.
You soothe them beneath Your fingers
and comfort this broken child.
Turning, I keep on trying to run away
like these pieces, these pieces blown by the winds of shame
every time I hear that who I am is wrong,
Every time I feel that I may not belong,
still You call me with Your song
and You gather these scattered pieces,
ever seeking the ones that hide.
You bring them back together,
remaking this broken child.
Too often I’ve run away, and too often I’ve hid my face;
too seldom, I’ve sought your boundless embrace.
So I’ll offer these broken pieces
each day I’ll bring them where You reside
and rest there, safe in Your presence
forever, Your broken child.
Your broken, beloved child.