God molds and sculptures, tints and blends,
by Juanita Derringer
The soul created, to earth descends.
A place is waiting for it to grow,
Good thoughts to nurture, good seeds to sow.
God waits to guide it along its way.
The time's so short for it to stay.
He follows it from place to place,
To caution, should it fall from grace.
God's ever near it it comes to pain,
Or to inspire high goals to gain;
For like tis Maker, it should become,
Before it's beckoned on back home.