| Sometimes I stop on my way home and watch the children play
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| And I wonder if they wonder what they’ll be some day
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| Some will dream a big dream and make it all come true
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| While others go on dreaming of things they’ll never do
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| We’re all just seeds in God’s hands
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| We start the same but where we land
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| Is sometimes fertile soil and sometimes sand
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| We’re all just seeds in God’s hands
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| I saw a friend the other day, I hardly recognized
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| He’d done a lot of living since I’d last looked in his eyes
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| He told his tale of how he’d failed, the lessons he’d been taught
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| But he offered no excuses and he left me with this thought
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| We’re all just seeds in God’s hands
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| We start the same but where we land
|
| Is sometimes fertile soil and sometimes sand
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| We’re all just seeds in God’s hands
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| And as I’m standing at a crossroads once again
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| I’m reminded we’re all the same when we begin
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| And in the end?
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| We’re all just seeds in God’s hands
|
| We start the same but where we land
|
| Is sometimes fertile soil and sometimes sand
|
| We’re all just seeds in God’s hands
|
| We’re all just seeds in God’s hands |