Seeds - Kathy Mattea

Sometimes I stop on my way home and watch the children play

And I wonder if they wonder what they’ll be some day

Some will dream a big dream and make it all come true

While others go on dreaming of things they’ll never do

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

I saw a friend the other day, I hardly recognized

He’d done a lot of living since I’d last looked in his eyes

He told his tale of how he’d failed, the lessons he’d been taught

But he offered no excuses and he left me with this thought

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

And as I’m standing at a crossroads once again

I’m reminded we’re all the same when we begin

And in the end?

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