Wednesday, 8 April 2009


When I think of You, hanging, that cruel cross,
Your red blood, stained wood creaking, my release,
Everything I've done, all of that is loss:
In Your grace alone I at last find peace.
This dark valley path is not walked alone,
Your right hand holds me close. Your word, my guide.
My weak eyes shall soon see You on Your throne,
All sin and fear forever cast aside.
Only You deserve my praise. Your glory
shines from high mountains, to the very deep.
For all of my days I will tell Your story
What You did, to myself, I shall not keep.
Tricky time ticks by and soon you shall see
Jesus's return, the end of history.

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