All

He made you a perfect pair of shoes
But asked you not to run; said you'd fall
You ran and fell and tore those shoes
He picked you up and patched them well
But again you ran and fell
Out of pride, you picked yourself up
And dealt with dirty shoes.
When you were mocked for stained old shoes
He polished them with his own sweat.
You threw them off and made your own
And you told Him His weren't good enough
He still offers you those perfect shoes.
Patched up and clean so you can run.
Yours are cracked, but you refuse.
All He asks is that you wear his shoes.
But wear his shoes and He'll yield to you All.

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