I thought I owned million-a-thing, the thoughts I think, the songs I sing;
I thought I claimed each moment mine, the lyric, the poem, even the rhyme.
I thought I had a way with life, that peace was mine, and even strife;
I thought I could hold it in my hand, be queen for a day-now that’d be grand!
But then I thought, “These thoughts won’t do.” Something in them refused to ring true.
For even my mind which built such notions, and also my deepest heartfelt emotions,
Were created by Him Who possesses the stars, the Earth, Jupiter, Saturn and Mars,
All creatures, all plants, things present and past, all that is gone and that which will last.
You see, nothing is mine, not even this breath; all is His: my days, my death.
So I will live as I am: truly His own, from kneeling on this Earth ’til before His throne.
And when they ask, “What did she possess?” The love of a King and His happiness.
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