Thy God’s Plan for Me

He crowns my path with gentled love

And lays out roses evermore.

Thy God’s Plan for Me

Before my breath was ever known,
Before my name was spoken free,
Thy hand had traced my road in gold,
A holy map for me to be.
Not chance, nor fear, nor broken days
Could blur the ink Thy mercy wrote—
For Thou hast planned my joy made full,
And stitched Thy hope into my soul.

Thy God’s plan for me is good,
Though storms may rise and voices roar.
He crowns my path with gentled love
And lays out roses evermore.
I am not late. I am not lost.
I walk beneath His watchful eye.
Thy God’s plan for me is love,
And love shall always testify.

He feeds me with the living bread,
Not scraps of sorrow, crumbs of fear.
He fills my cup till it overflows
With peace made strong and vision clear.
He does not starve the faithful heart,
Nor bind the ones He calls His own—
He wills me laughter, rest, and song,
And joys yet never known.

He chooses who may walk with me,
Who speaks with truth and guards my flame.
He draws the kind, the wise, the pure,
And blesses friendship in His Name.
But those who wound with sharpened tongues,
Who mock the faith they do not own—
He lifts them gently from my road,
For such do not belong.

Thy God’s plan for me is holy,
Set apart, yet full of grace.
Not all may walk this narrow path,
Nor know this sacred place.
I do not chase the crowd’s applause,
Nor bow to scorn or blasphemy.
Thy God’s plan for me is truth,
And truth has set me free.

For every word they speak in spite,
For every whisper, lie, and sneer—
He hears them all; not one is lost,
Not one escapes His ear.
Each idle word is weighed in light,
Each cruel remark made known.
The mouths that curse the chosen ones
Shall answer at His throne.

They call us names. They scoff. They sneer.
They hinder faith, they mock the Cross.
Yet we are people set apart,
Not counted with the world’s great loss.
We bear a mark they cannot see,
A seal no hatred can erase.
We stand not proud, but planted firm
In undeserved grace.

“Love yourself,” He softly says,
When all the world turns cold and cruel.
“Guard your heart. Tend well your soul.
Do not let sorrow be your rule.”
Even here, when all seems wrong,
“I am with you. I remain.
I am the God who lifts your head
And names you whole again.”

He crowns me now with roses red,
Not thorns of shame nor chains of doubt.
He trains my hands to gather beauty
And scatter goodness all about.
He shapes my life as living proof
That mercy lives, that hope is true—
That even broken histories
Can bloom anew.

Thy God’s plan for me is faithful,
Watched, defended, sealed, and sure.
He walks before me, guards behind,
My future safe, my calling pure.
Let voices rage. Let shadows pass.
I stand where Heaven’s promises be—
For all my days, through every storm,
Thy God has planned for me.

Written by Marguerite Grace
Copyright Protected