Lord, I am not worthy, but you say the word
And my servant at home will healed
Just say your will, don’t bother to come
If you speak, his recovery’s sealed.
The centurion man lived accustomed to clout
Bidding hundreds to come or to go
If he but required it, no matter the task
His soldiers would dare not say no.
Jesus applauded the level of trust
Of this seeker outside of the realm
At that very hour the servant was cured
For his master knew Christ had the helm
That is why I trust you, Lord,
You are God of the great and the small.
You care for the servant, the troop and the Jew
With a word you can soften our fall --and heal us all.
