Rolling upon the rocks of God,
I am just the stream babbling by.
Some rocks are smooth, I roll with ease.
Others are sharp and injure me.
God does not remove each rock in my path,
But He allows me to pass through.
For He knows His intended aftermath,
How He will make me anew.
With each rock is left behind,
Some piece of what I've been.
I continue moving forward,
Never meeting my amen.
So along I travel forward,
Not knowing what God has planned.
With each rock I'm rolled upon,
I'm purified by His hand.
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