When I am tempted to fuss and fret,
Because all my “needs” have not been met,
Or when I am prone to great despair,
Despite working hard life isn’t fair.
I realize I’ve come to believe the lie,
That the most important person in the world is, I.
My anger or my wallowing sorrow,
Results from the selfish attitude that I borrow.
When I let self my conscience cloud,
Fleshly rule has been allowed.
But to counter my naturally sinful bent,
I have a help that’s heaven-sent.
I dwell on His most precious blood,
And to my heart the joy does flood.
How can I help but praise and sing,
When dwelling on the selfless King?