It was only a handmade trinket,
With little beauty or worth.
Still, the proudest gift she had given
In her five years upon the earth.
When her dad, in terrible anger,
Destroyed her work of art
In blindness, he never realized,
What he shattered was her heart.

She was only a simple woman,
But she loved with all her might.
She trusted her friend and lover
To always treat her right.
When he left her for another,
Betraying his faithful wife,
To his shame, he never realized,
What he shattered was her life.

Young boy stood by his mirror,
Belting out a country tune.
Feet firmly planted on the ground,
His eyes were on the moon.
?Till his mother, with derision,
Dealt a blow both hard and mean?
Envy conquering over hope,
What she shattered was his dream.

He is our loving Savior,
Patient, merciful, divine?
He willingly sacrificed Himself,
For the sins of all mankind.
When we fail now to seek Him,
We tear His dear gift apart,
And we are too proud to confess,
What we shatter is His heart.

Sandra Boyte, Copyright 2004
Used With Permission