A Psalm of Sorts

you build me right
by waterspouts and diamonds
My root goes down.

The crooked way, it breaks me
as I bend ’round my borders.
But soon I will have straightened them
by the strength that you have given me

I have seen the water’s edge
and know that I am not forsaken
He who makes the sun to rise
has spread His banner over me

I know I will see the spring
And bear my fruit in season
For I have been planted by a sure hand
Whose seasons waver not.

Your sons You build like mighty trees
You daughters like marble colonnade
Who has seen the beauty of Your children
Like the temple builder?

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