|
|
You come, you go,
You run to and fro
My child, make up your mind.
Be hot or cold
Not luke warm anymore.
My child you won’t make it into
Heavenly home, if you don’t stand still
And stand firm.
Quit letting yourself be swayed.
Your faith is that of the seashore.
Is that what you desire?
To be shifted and swayed
To not stand in me?