Pruned

Sinking down to the lowest depths

Stripped back again and again

How many layers must go

Before You reach the core

The softest place

Where all that You are

Can be moulded into me

I must decrease

That You may increase

Painful as the pruning knife may be

As long as You are at the centre

Knowing Your ever increasing glory

Is preparing me 

As part of Your bride

Made ready for that day

Then the testing of my faith

And the fight that pursues

Is worth it 

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