The Lord is my baker;
I shall not go hungry.
He kneads me when I am stiff and unworkable.
He sets me in a warm, quiet place to rise.
He shapes my scattered dough into something whole.
He guides my proving for the sake of what I'm becoming.
Even though I pass through the fire, I will not be afraid,
for you are with me; your heat and your timing, they perfect me. You lay a table before me while my enemies watch me rise. You brush me with oil until I shine.
My portion overflows.
Surely goodness and provision will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Baker forever.

The Lord is my architect;
I shall not lack a foundation.
He draws me plans in places of stillness and open sky.
He walks the site with me before I understand the vision.
He restores what has been poorly built.
He leads me along load-bearing lines for his name's sake.
Even though I walk through half-finished rooms and exposed frames, I will not fear collapse, for you are with me;
your level and your plumb line, they steady me.
You prepare a structure for me in the presence of those who doubted it would stand.
You finish my rough edges; my walls hold.
Surely your design and your craftsmanship will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house the Architect built, forever.