The Sieve


Each grain in the sieve as it goes left and right

In the masters hand

His perfection made known in the heavens

As the storm blows uncontrollably on earth

Oh, the cry of his children

If only understanding was meat

And knowledge their drink

For every drop that rolled down their cheeks

The process did not repose

Because it would be imperfect and rudimentary

The enemy shows up to do what he knows best

Trying to snatch up a grain from the sieve

But the Master did not permit

The enemy, so eager but waits for approbation

For every problem there is Praise

For every sifting, Salvation

For we have been carefully elected by His grace

To be refined and polished

For perfection in His kingdom

Thanks be to God for sifting

For from every sift

Comes a shout of Salvation and Victory

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