The King and God of time and space,
Who chose to grant to me His grace,
Holds out His scepter - bids me stand
Close to His heart, under His hand.
He calls me friend, though well He knows
My fickle heart will oft oppose
His plan that I should love Him more
Than all the idols I adore.
My idols are not carved from wood,
And some are things you might call good.
So quick I am to love and cling
To anything besides my King!
My family, friends, my church, myself
All stand as idols on the shelf,
And down I bow with heart sincere,
Ignoring Him who stands so near.
I’m dazzled by a plastic bead.
Of priceless pearls I take no heed
I miss the rose in clouded sight,
But pick the weeds and hold them tight.
The thing that ought to thrill me most
So often falls behind a host
Of things that give my heart a thrill -
That promise life, but only kill!
Oh God, please help me love you more
Than all the idols I adore!
Make other loves seem more like hate,
And even seem to dissipate
When held beside my love for you
That fills me as you want it to.
I must confess my clutch is tight -
My stubborn heart is filled with fight!
But loose me not from holy hand,
And help me know and understand
That greater far than pearl or rose,
Or earthly trinkets, bells or bows
Is having, knowing, loving Thee!
To love Thee more - my only plea.