Life hangs by a thread. A simple cut and we're dead. All of our money, fortune and fame, That same little thread holds it again.
We think we are secure in the strength of our might, When we have not the power to even last the night. Our fate and our destiny is guided for sure By the One who gave the rules, we make the detour. If only we realize it is not by our wits, That we survive, even prosper, it is because He permits. The cup of life made available to all Hanging by a thread, yet secured from a fall. Cynthia
