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The Game

I look at the cards that I've been dealt,

And often, to my shame,

I slap my hand to the table

And want to call the game.

 

I say that its not fair at all

To have to play this hand

When I sat down at this table

It's not what I had planned.

Oh, what a foolish, stubborn heart

To lift up self and say

Unless I'm given better cards

I do not want to play.

So, give me wisdom Holy King,

And grace to understand

No matter what's been dealt to me

The aces are in Your hands.

And so I sit here quietly,

And wait upon Your plan

And watch with anticipation

As You take every hand.

Sandra Boyte, Copyright 2004
Used With Permission