Transform me, please, to be like you. I haven’t worked out how.
The present place is far too harsh. It’s dark and low and dim.
But grow me, Lord, to be like Christ. I want to be like Him.
Grow me, Lord, and rearrange, but do it please, with little pain and just a minimum of change.
And, please, don’t do it here, not just that way, not now.
But that’s how He does it.
Here. That way. Now.