Sonship

Oh feeble words! Unholy lines!
I cannot make you tell,
My rapture you obscure, obtrude.
This love that in me swells.
These words I use, so ruff and rude,
Cannot express my gratitude.

“What did I ever do for you,
That you should die for me?
And what did I ever give to you,
That you should live in me?”
What future did you see in me,
That you would set me free?
What beauty did you find in me,
That you adopted me?

How did I ever earn the right,
For you to call me son?
Did I not curse and crucify,
And kill you just for fun?
Could I ever earn this grace?
Could I do any good?
Could my dead soul do any right?
Yea, even if I should?

How do I live when I’m your child
And sit before your face?
Make me secure and satisfied,
But simply in your grace.
In my soul I love the pit,
From which you rescued me.
I revel in the sick and vile,
My hearts is putrid, see!

I turn for help and love to You,
I know You will renew.
My God – but more than God is He,
My Father He is, too.

O feeble words! Unholy lines!
I cannot make you tell,
My rapture you obscure, obtrude,
This love that in me swells.
These words I use, so ruff and rude,
Cannot express my gratitude.

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