You’ve finally met her,
The girl you have seen only in your dreams,
Her skin tone is your description of recherche,
The shape of her legs looks destined to traverse the hills where your father’s home is situated,
When she talks, you don’t want to interrupt because her voice makes you a melody of love,
She has stolen your heart, and you are okay to have things that way for consider it safe with her,
You are excited to have sons and daughters with her,
Sons and daughters of your youth,
And you want to have your quiver full of them,
I wish you well.
Yet I have just one question to ask you,
And I will not wait for your permission because you may not say yes,
“Whose daughter is she?”
Don’t tell me the name of her mother!
Whose daughter is she?
Is her mother a good woman?
Does she love the LORD or only the Saviour?
Does her mother respect the man who fathered her?
Is she a good homemaker?
If you are not satisfied with the answers to these questions, boy,
Then you must now give your head a chance,
Your heart has been in charge too long,
Give your mind a chance to help you decide well,
Fruit does not fall far away from the tree,
And the saying, “Like mother, like daughter,” is nowhere close to a myth,
However, I am giving you one “save me”,
Only one thing can break the maternal inherited and cultivated tendencies,
That thing is not a scholarship,
It is not exposure or class,
It is not wealth,
Only the gospel of Christ can break undesirable inheritances,
Therefore if you have misgivings with she who bore her, nursed and made her a woman,
Yet you can see she has entered into the yoke of Christ,
Take her home and start filling your quiver with foot soldiers,
And I’m spoiling it for you again,
If you are satisfied with her being the prototype of her mother,
Yet she has not fallen in love with the man of Calvary,
It should be obvious that you’re messing up,
Unless you are an enemy of the cross yourself.
So, “whose daughter is she?”
Taking the Cleaver to the World
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