You called me, Lord, to take dominion here,
In fruitfulness and preaching that is clear.
In what way can I reach the world for You?
In fame and popularity pursue?
Through kings and wall street are You served the best?
Does earth’s success define Christian success?
I can not ever reach the world for You,
‘Til You are worshiped in my living room.
So I must teach my children in Your ways,
In domesticity to preach Your grace.
Through faithful households You desire to work,
And from the home You spread to all the earth.
The place where greatest fruitfulness will come,
Is in a home surrendered to Your Son.

Mold Me (II Peter 1:3-9)

Lord, mold me to be more like Christ,
And spur me on to sanctity,
And with Your Spirit strengthen me,
To decimate depravity.

Lord, mold me to be more like Christ,
Not fruitless in forgetfulness,
But stir me from my stalled distress,
Renew me in Your righteousness.

Lord, mold me to be more like Christ,
And stimulate my soul to hear,
I don’t digest Your words, I fear,
And unabsorbed, Your words are null.

Lord, mold me to me more like Christ,
I recognize I do not need,
Some new insights on which to feed,
But knowing Christ is all my creed.

Lord, mold me to be more like Christ,
Remind me of the things I know,
Through scripture, brother, or through foe,
Let common graces make me grow.

The Hands of Judgment (Hebrews 10:23-31)

Hold to the promise we hope in,
Which can not be bended or broken.
Relentlessly hold the confession,
For it’s your most costly possession.
The One who has promised is certain,
And nothing can ever deter Him.

Take cognizance of one another,
To aid in defending your brother.
Unto Godly righteousness guiding,
Not shirking, forsaking, or hiding.
Exhort to the truth ever clearer,
As God’s day of judgment grows nearer.

If you willingly sin not believing,
Though a full knowledge you are receiving,
You’ve forsaken the grace you were given,
There’s no sacrifice left to be given.
But there’s fire prepared for the scoffer,
And wrath that is whetted to slaughter.

Oh tremble before Jesus’ anger!
His judgment is dreadful in danger.
His hands which will harrow the nation,
Are our only hope of salvation:
By those hands every rebel will perish,
By those hands we are lovingly cherished.