This Soul of Mine, It’s not my Own.

One day I gave my life to Jesus,
I was only six years old you know—
My soul I knew, was not my own.

To church we went but once a week,
It was like that every Sunday—
My soul went with me, like always.

The church we went to was so big,
All the people and the noise they made,
Within my soul, I was afraid.

I didn’t know the preacher that day,
He talked about lilies and sparrow birds—
My soul was alert, to these words.

My soul is worth far more than these,
Jesus died for me; why that’s absurd!
What is this, my soul has heard?

Then finally some words I understood,
This man was talking right to me—
Yes, into my soul, he could see.

I heard the choir sing “Just as I am,”
They sang those words so bold—
And to my soul, they were like gold.

Wake up my child, this is for you,
A family ticket I cannot give—
For this your soul, it needs to live.’

An altar call the preacher made,
What will you do with Jesus today?
As for my soul and I, we did obey.

I walked on by my mum and dad,
My brothers and my sister too;
I think my soul it knew, just what to do.

I prayed a prayer I won’t forget,
I have remembered it to this day—
My life and soul, to God I gave.

Now one day I will live with Him,
And no matter how long I will be known—
This soul of mine, it’s not my own.

16 thoughts on “This Soul of Mine, It’s not my Own.”

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