The Master's Hand

The Painter’s brush has made you grand.
You search your soul to find your fate.
You’re a work of the Master’s hand.

Before the mirror now you stand
And all you see you seem to hate.
The Painter’s brush has made you grand.

Is this really what was planned?
Your appearance cannot your mind sate.
You’re a work of the Master’s hand.

You’ve no control, you’ve not command
Something fallen, never great –
The Painter’s brush has made you grand.

You say you’ll not make the Holy Land
And aren’t worthy of the Pearly Gate.
You’re a work of the Master’s Hand.

You seem to think you’re only bland,
but in you something special He did create –
The Painter’s brush has made you grand.
You’re a work of the Master’s hand.