When I approach His throne of grace,
The stench of my being fills my face.
I feel so strongly to glorify His Name,
What contrast! His glory is to my shame!

By myself I pay trespass for trespass,
But it’s out of His goodness that I continue to last.
My sin is like my bed which upon I rest,
And this I cover by pride, way over my head and chest.

Things sometimes feel like they can’t get any worse,
& then I do something to give into my desire’s thirst.
His Spirit councils to quiet my rebelling,
But am a victim of feelings consuming but never fulfilling.

Of myself I have little control.
After the relations I have ravaged,
By His goodness I am still on parole.

God in His goodness is always Sovereign!
And He converts to life, hearts solid and frozen.
So when I look in worship into His marvelous face,
I am reminded of my depraved and sinful distaste.

I have sinfully sought many a other pleasure,
When Christ ought to be my first and only treasure.
As assuredly as I have life I know of His providence,
And when He decrees then I shall take every thought captive to Him in obedience.

This piece of my life is the painful part of His threshing,
Where what is born of His Spirit is the wheat in me beginning.
And my mutinies are like the dead chaff painfully dwindling.

So I pray to my loving Father,
That I may trust Christ and no other,
& may His Spirit sanctify me through the blood of my Firstborn Brother.

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