unfinished praise

Can I run the race set out before me?

Not striving for the prize, just trying not to fall.

Tripping up the runners all around me.

Stumbling in the dark, trying to find the light.

But I know that I am just a work in progress

And the Author isn’t finished writing yet.

I’m Unfinished praise, Let the Father weave the threads.

Unfinished praise, Let the Potter work the clay.

Until the Master draws his bow, and the notes have all been played,

And the message of my life becomes His song, I’m unfinished praise.

So much just feels like going through the motions

No occasion to soar, and no place to run

But our Heav’nly Father promised to sustain us

Each day step by step, to walk but not faint

And I know that I am just a work in progress

And the Author isn’t finished writing yet.

Unfinished praise, Let the Father weave the threads.

Unfinished praise, Let the Potter work the clay.

Until the Master draws his bow, and the notes have all been played,

And the message of my life becomes His song, I’m unfinished praise

In the pit, You are my Song

On the sand, You are my Rock

In my weakness,

You’re the power of the cross

And the day will come when you will see

God’s finished work, His tapestry,

Rejoice, adopted child of the King

Unfinished praise, Let the Father weave the threads.

Unfinished praise, Let the Potter work the clay.

Until the Master draws his bow, and the notes have all been played,

And the message of my life becomes His song, I’m unfinished praise.