There are many tittles i could hold,
so many things that i could be,
but when my story has been told,
may it be said of me.
This is the Masters faithful servant,
in whom the Father is well pleased,
one of many in whom is evident,
the fruit of love took it's seed.
Distractions of this life tried in vain,
to choke the tender growing plant,
but it endured the shock and pain of the pruning and remained intact.
When the storms of rain came down,
trying to wash the growth away,
the roots sank deeper in the ground,
the little plant determined to stay.
Yes one of many planted well,
in plowed and forrowed land,
matured enough to tell the tell,
of a master's loving hand.