O Lord I turn to You.
You are the rock of my foundation, the peace for my soul.
When I look at the things that trouble me, You are there pruning and growing my trust.
You take away the thistle and remove the weed.
You enrich my soul O my Lord.
You shade me from the withering heat, and give me water of abundance.
You have conquered the bug, it shall die of hunger.
My soul is lifted up to You my God, my soul is lifted up to You.
May I not cry out when you prune my branches.
Make I grow on in bravery as you remove the weed,
not seeking comfort in the weed that must be removed,
but may I turn to you and be fed with your light.
May I turn to you and soak up your great water.
Plant me in the good soil, my God, that my fruit may be multiplied.
Something that is acceptable to You and Your glory.
May I die, that the fruit of my branches can take plant and grow.
May I turn to the soul, some day, that enriches a new plant.
Use me Lord until nothing is left.
Let me be of value to You my God.