A curly mop of hair crowing my round face
Who am I that You would favor me
A child of dust that You found me and drew me after You
Who sees anything in me worthy of Your attention
Yet You keep calling me by my name
That I may draw near to You
Why do You grip me in Your hands
In everything You do I see Your loving care of me
You break me, You mold me
You make me to know You
To fall at Your feet adoring You, my lover my God
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